BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


0  ^v 


EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 
IN  AN  AMBULANCE. 


BY 

LAURA  WINTHROP  JOHNSON. 


PHIIiADEIiPHIA: 

J.   B.    LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 

1889. 


Copyright,  1889,  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


PREFACE. 


These  papers,  written  by  my  sister, 
Mrs.  Laura  Winthrop  Johnson,  ap- 
peared in  Lippincott^s  Magazine  in 
June  and  July,  1875,  and  in  order  to 
preserve  them  in  a  more  durable  form, 
they  have  been  reprinted  in  this  little 
volume. 

Those  who  knew  and  loved  her  will 
value  them  partly  for  her  sake,  and 
those  who  had  not  that  privilege,  for 
their  own. 

ELIZABETH  W.  WINTHEOP. 

West  New  Brighton, 

Staten  Island,  E^ew  York. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/eighthundredmileOOjohnrich 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  father  of  Laura  Winthrop, 
long  resident  at  New  Haven,  was 
a  descendant  of  Governor  Winthrop, 
of  Connecticut,  and  her  mother  was 
a  sister  of  President  Woolsey,  of  Yale 
College.  Theodore  Winthrop  was  her 
brother.  In  N.  P.  Willis's  first  thin 
little  volume  of  poems,  which  he 
called  "Sketches,"  published  in  Boston 
by  S.  G.  Goodrich,  in  1827,  one  of  the 
most  melodious  and  characteristic  is 
addressed  to  "Laura  W.,  Two  Years 
of  Age."  It  describes  a  lovely  child 
and  forecasts  the  woman's  destiny : 


1* 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

"I  would  that  thou  mightst  ever  be 

As  beautiful  as  now; 
That  time  might  ever  leave  as  free 

Thy  yet  unwritten  brow. 
I  would  life  were  all  poetry 

To  gentle  measures  set, 
That  naught  but  chastened  melody 

Might  dim  thine  eye  of  jet: 
Nor  one  discordant  note  be  spoken 
Till  God  the  cunning  harp  hath  broken." 

Doubtless  in  the  life  then  beginning 
so  brightly  there  were  sorrow  and  pain, 
but  never  a  discordant  note  sounded 
from  that  heart  which  was  early  at- 
tuned to  heavenly  melody.  Laura  Win- 
throp  married  the  late  William  Tem- 
pleton  Johnson,  of  New  York,  and  soon 
after  their  marriage,  nearly  forty  years 
ago,  they  came  to  Staten  Island,  which 
was  always  their  home.  The  aptness 
of  Willis's  phrase,  "  child  of  the  sunny 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

brow,"  is  easily  recognized  by  those  who 
knew  Mrs.  Johnson.  Her  sun  of  youth 
did  not  set 

She  was  a  woman  of  singular  sweet- 
ness and  serenity  of  nature,  of  the 
most  catholic  sympathy,  of  high  intel- 
ligence and  of  varied  and  generous  ac- 
complishment. Her  rural  home,  sur- 
rounded with  trees  and  flowers  of  her 
own  planting  and  care,  which  she  knew 
well  and  held  in  a  kind  of  human  com- 
panionship, was  the  seat  of  refined  and 
delightful  hospitality.  No  poorer  neigh- 
bor but  welcomed  her  tranquil  presence 
and  was  cheered  by  her  wise  and  gentle 
charities.  Her  tastes  and  the  training 
of  her  childhood  made  her  familiar  with 
the  best  literature  and  art,  and  a  vol- 
ume of  poems  which  she  published,  and 
the    Life    and    Letters   of   her   brother 


8  INTRODUCTION, 

Theodore  which  she  edited,  show  the 
deep  sincerity  of  her  nature,  the  thought- 
fulness  and  the  flowing  grace  of  her 
literary  power.  Her  well-ordered  life 
and  constant  devotion  to  duty  of  every 
kind  recalled  to  those  who  knew  them 
Goethe's  legend,  "without  haste,  with- 
out rest."  Her  heart  was  a  well-spring 
of  ceaseless  affection,  and  her  active  and 
well-balanced  mind  maintained  an  un- 
wearied interest  in  all  great  questions,  re- 
ligious, political,  and  social,  upon  which 
her  own  judgment  was  her  guide,  and 
upon  which  her  position  was  calmly  in- 
dependent. She  was  not  of  a  contro- 
versial temperament,  but  she  held  no 
opinion  for  which  she  had  not  an  ade- 
quate reason,  and  neither  tradition  nor 
affection  allured  her  from  quiet  fidelity 
to  her  conscience. 


INTRODUCTIOK  9 

In  this  community  she  was  always  in 
the  van  of  good  works,  and  her  com- 
prehensive sympathy  enlarged  contin- 
ually the  circle  of  her  friends.  In  all 
the  amenities  of  social  intercourse  she 
was  untiring,  and  her  life,  as  parent, 
friend,  and  citizen,  was  full  of  benefi- 
cent activity  and  rounded  with  content. 
With  gentle  dignity  and  tender  assidu- 
ity, of  a  happy  temperament  and  in  rosy 
health,  loving  and  beloved,  she  greeted 
the  inexorable  advance  of  years  and 
smilingly  held  Time  at  bay.  Although 
past  sixty  she  still  had  the  aspect  of 
her  blooming  prime.  The  music  of  the 
poet's  salutation  to  the  child  of  two 
years  often  murmured  in  the  memory 
of  those  who  saw  in  the  mother  and 
grandmother  the  child's  "  sunny  brow," 
still  smooth  and  fair.     What  gift  of  God 


10  INTRODVCTION. 

more  gracious  could  those  who  loved  her 
ask  than  that  in  the  untouched  fulness 
of  beautiful  life  and  in  the  domestic 
heaven  of  her  home  she  should  close 
her  eyes  in  this  world  suddenly  and  for- 
ever? 

"My  sprightly  neighbor,  gone  before 
To  that  unknown  and  silent  shore, 
Shall  we  not  meet  as  heretofore. 
Some  summer  morning? 

"When  from  thy  cheerful  eyes  a  ray 
Hath  struck  a  bliss  upon  the  day, — 
A  bliss  that  would  not  go  away, — 
A  sweet  forewarning." 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS. 

West  New  Brighton, 
Staten  Island,  New  York. 
March  27,  1889. 


EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

IN   AN 

AMBULANCE. 


The  United  States  is  the  only  country 
in  the  world  that  has  its  frontier  in  the 
middle.  The  Great  American  Desert, 
stretching  from  the  Canadas  to  the  Gulf 
in  a  belt  nearly  a  thousand  miles  in 
breadth,  is  now  the  true  divide  between 
the  East  and  the  West;  and  as  if  that 
were  not  enough,  it  is  backed  by  the  long 
ranges  of  the  Rockies,  which,  though 
they  flatten  out  and  break  down  here 
and  there,  have  yet  quite  enough  of 
"  sassy  country"  to  make  a  very  respect- 
able barrier,     A  century  ago  the  Alle- 

11 


12  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

ghanies  were  the  boundaries, — now,  we 
look  upon  them  as  molehills;  then  the 
vast  prairies  lay  in  the  way,  like  an 
endless  sea;  then  the  Mississippi,  like 
Jordan,  rolled  between.  But  all  this  is 
now  as  nothing.  We  have  jumped  the 
old  claim  of  the  Alleghanies,  we  have 
crossed  the  prairies,  we  have  spanned 
the  Mississippi  with  a  dozen  splendid 
bridges,  and  now  the  great  lines  of  rail- 
road make  but  a  mouthful  of  the  desert, 
and  digest  the  Rockies  as  easily  as  an 
ostrich  his  pebbles  and  tenpennies.  The 
old  fables  of  magic  cars,  in  which  magi- 
cians could  annihilate  space  and  time, 
are  now  dull  and  tame.  Like  a  dream 
the  desert  glides  by  while  a  sunrise,  a 
sunset,  lights  up  the  measureless  waste ; 
we  pass  some  low  hills,  and  the  Rockies 
that  loomed  before  us  are  circumvented 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  13 

and  flanked;  we  whirl  through  a  wild 
canon,  and  they  are  left  behind.  Have 
we  seen  the  desert,  the  mountains  ?  No. 
It  is  but  a  glimpse, — a  flat  space  black- 
ened with  prairie  fires,  a  distant  view 
of  purple  peaks.  Few  become  intimate 
with  this  our  wonderful  frontier,  and 
most  people  scorn  it  as  an  empty,  use- 
less, monotonous  space,  barren  as  the 
sea. 

We  left  Cheyenne  early  in  July, 
under  the  care  of  a  paymaster  of  the 
U.S.A.,  to  visit  with  him  some  of  the 
forts  and  Indian  agencies  of  Wyoming 
Territory  and  beyond.  Our  party  con- 
sisted of  twelve  persons,  including  six 
ladies  and.  three  children.  There  were 
two  ambulances  for  us,  and  three  wagons 
containing  all  the  comforts  necessary  in 
camping  out  for  some  weeks.     It  was 


14  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

promised  that  we  should  see  wonders, 
and  should  go  where  no  white  women 
had  ever  been  before.  At  6.45  on  a 
beautiful  morning,  with  a  fresh  breeze 
blowing  over  the  desert,  the  party  set 
forth,  looking  forward  with  delight  to  a 
continuous  picnic  a  month  long.  Soon 
every  vestige  of  human  habitation  dis- 
appeared, and  we  were  alone  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  the  loneliest  lands  in 
the  world.  Sahara  itself,  that  bugbear 
of  childhood,  could  not  be  much  more 
desert  than  this.  Fort  Laramie,  distant 
nearly  one  hundred  miles,  two  long 
days'  journey  towards  the  north,  was 
our  first  point  of  destination.  Over 
ridge  after  ridge  of  the  vast  rolling 
plains,  clothed  with  thin  brown  grass, 
we  rode :  no  other  vegetation  was  visible 
but  the  prickly  pear,  white  thistle,  and 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  I5 

yucca,  or  Spanish  bayonet, — stiff,  gray, 
stern  plants,  suited  to  the  stony,  arid 
soil.  The  road  was  good,  the  vehicle 
comfortable,  the  air  sweet  and  cool; 
along  the  many  ruts  in  the  sand  grew 
long  rows  of  sunflowers,  which  fill  every 
trail  on  the  plains  for  hundreds  of  miles 
and  give  a  little  color  to  the  colorless 
scene.  The  season  of  flowers  was  nearly 
over  in  that  rainless  country,  but  a  few 
still  lingered,  and  among  them  was  the 
familiar  larkspur,  growing  wild.  At 
first  the  long  low  hills  seemed  lonely 
as  graves,  but  we  soon  found  there 
was  not  a  rod  of  ground  but  had  its  in- 
habitants. Everywhere  something  was 
moving,  some  little  beast,  bird,  or  in- 
sect :  larks  sang  and  perked  about  on  the 
stones;  prairie-birds  twittered;  gophers 
(pretty  creatures  with  feathery  tails  and 


16  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

leopard  spots)  slid  rapidly  to  their  holes ; 
prairie-dogs  sat  like  sentinels  upon  their 
mounds  and  barked  like  angry  puppies ; 
great  pink-and-gray  grasshoppers,  so  fat 
that  they  could  hardly  waddle,  indulged 
their  voracity;  and  brown  crickets  and 
butterflies  were  seen  on  every  side.  An 
antelope  disappears  in  the  distance ;  a 
brigand-like  horseman  rides  up  and  asks 
the  way.  He  is  a  suspicious-looking 
character,  and  pistols  are  cocked.  We 
have  not  our  full  escort,  and  are  there 
not  greenbacks  among  us?  But  he  too 
disappears  in  the  distance.  I§  his  band 
lurking  among  those  hills?  We  like  to 
think  so. 

About  fifteen  miles  up  and  down 
brought  us  to  our  first  ranch,  on  Pole 
Creek,  a  dry  stream,  with  osiers,  shrubs, 
and  weeds  in  its  bed.     It  was  pleasant 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  17 

to  see  something  green,  even  so  little, 
and  something  human,  though  only  a 
long,  low,  whitewashed  cabin ;  but  this 
touch  of  life  did  not  make  much  Im- 
pression upon  the  wilderness,  save  to 
make  it  seem  wilder.  A  plover  was 
flying  about,  "  crying  and  calling ;"  a 
large  flock  of  cow-buntings,  our  old  ac- 
quaintances, followed  the  cattle  that 
grazed  in  the  bed  of  the  stream.  We 
gathered  twenty  species  of  flowers  here, 
among  them  a  tiny  scarlet  mallow  and 
a  white  Oenothera  or  evening  primrose. 
In  the  three  rooms  of  the  ranch  there 
was  refreshment  to  be  found,  doubtless 
of  a  spirituous  nature,  but  we  watered 
our  mules  and  went  on.  It  was  ten 
miles  farther  before  we  came  to  our  next 
ranch,  so  thinly  settled  is  the  country. 
Being    time    for   our    noonday  rest,  we 


2* 


18  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

took  refuge  from  the  fierce  heat  and 
glare  of  the  desert  in  the  clean  rooms 
of  Mrs.  Fagin,  dined  on  our  own  pro- 
visions, and  drank  the  excellent  milk 
she  brought  us. 

Still  on  the  ambulances  rolled,  over 
the  hot,  high  table-land,  till,  about  five 
o'clock,  we  saw  some  strange  yellow 
bluffs  before  us,  and  descended  into  the 
valley  of  the  Chug,  a  clear  stream  flow- 
ing through  a  fringe  of  willow,  box-elder 
(a  species  of  maple),  and  the  cotton- 
wood  poplar.  Here  was  Kelly's  ranch, 
a  large  one,  close  by  which  we  were  to 
camp  for  the   night.     We   found  there 

Lieutenant    F and    an    escort   of 

twenty  horse,  which  had  been  sent  to 
meet  us  from  Fort  Laramie.  They  had 
our  tents  pitched  for  us,  and  everything 
ready.     A  wild,  lonely  place   was   this 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  I9 

green  valley,  with  its  fantastic,  water- 
worn  bluffs  that  bore  a  grotesque  re- 
semblance to  turtles,  seals,  and  other 
great  sea-beasts,  and  it  was  delightful  to 
see  trees  again  and  to  hear  the  sound  of 
running  water.  The  children  at  once 
pulled  off  shoes  and  stockings  and  be- 
gan to  paddle  in  the  stream,  and  some 
of  the  elders  followed.  It  was  arranged 
that  we  should  have  supper  and  break- 
fast in  the  ranch,  which  was  a  sort  of 
tavern,  and  we  found  the  supper  quite 
good  enough  for  hungry  people,  despite 
the  odor  of  onions  that  pervades  the 
hearths  and  homes  of  this  region. 

Kelly  was  a  tall,  dark,  slender  man, 
with  large  melancholy  eyes,  soft,  but 
never  meeting  you  quite  frankly, — eyes 
into  which  you  could  not  look  very  far. 
It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  understand  the 


20  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

life  of  this  man  and  his  "pard,"  with 
their  Indian  wives  and  half-breed  chil- 
dren, jfifty  miles  from  anywhere ;  yet 
they  seemed  very  busy  and  comfortable. 
He  was  asked  how  he  liked  it.  "It's 
rather  lonesome,"  he  replied.  He  was 
a  man  of  few  words,  and  went  about 
silently  in  carpet  slippers,  waiting  on  us 
at  table.  No  one  else  appeared,  but  we 
had  glimpses  of  the  Indian  women  in 
the  kitchen  preparing  the  meal.  After 
supper  we  all  sat  down  on  buffalo  robes 
spread  upon  the  dewless  grass,  while  the 
sun  went  down  in  glory  and  the  twilight 
gathered  in  the  sky,  realizing  that  we 
were  camping  out  for  the  first  time  in 
our  lives,  and  having  a  delicious  sense 
of  adventure,  a  first  sip  of  the  wine  of 
the  wilds.  "  Early  to  bed  and  early  to 
rise"  is  the  rule  in  camp,  and  so  when 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  21 

the  stars  came  out  we  turned  in.  As 
soon  as  the  sun  set  another  climate 
reigned  over  the  Plains.  The  nights 
are  always  cool,  dry,  and  delicious,  and 
fifty  miles  of  ambulance-travelling  is  a 
good  preparation  for  sleep.  Yet  when 
all  was  still  I  came  out  to  look  at  the 
night,  for  everything  was  so  strange  and 
new  that  sleep  at  first  would  not  come. 
The  scene  was  wild  enough.  The  twi- 
light still  glimmered  faintly;  the  sky 
was  thick  with  stars  of  a  brightness 
never  seen  in  more  humid  air  ;  the 
Milky  Way  was  like  a  fair  white  cloud ; 
the  fantastic  bluffs  looked  stranger  than 
ever  against  the  pale  green  west;  and 
the  splendid  comet  was  plunging  straight 
down  into  the  Turtle's  mouth.  A  light 
from  the  blacksmith's  forge  glowed  upon 
the  buildings,  tents,  and  low  trees;   in 


22  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

the  stillness  the  hammer  rang  out  loud, 
and  there  was  a  low  murmur  of  voices 
from  the  officers'  tent.  In  the  middle 
of  the  night  we  were  wakened  by  hear- 
ing the  galloping  of  a  horse,  perhaps  a 
passing  traveller,  and  when  it  ceased  a 
new  sound  came  to  our  ears,  the  bark- 
ing and  whining  of  wolves. 

The  next  morning  we  were  off  at  six. 
Our  road  lay  in  the  green  valley  of  the 
Chugwater,  under  the  pale  bluffs,  chan- 
nelled and  seamed  by  the  rains  into 
strange  shapes.  We  never  tired  of 
watching  our  train  as  it  wound  up  and 
down,  the  white-covered  wagons  with 
red  wheels  and  blue  bodies^  the  horse- 
men loping  along,  picturesquely  dressed, 
with  broad  hats,  large  boots,  blue  trou- 
sers, and  shirts  of  every  color.  Their 
riding  was  admirable,  and  as  they  ap- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  23 

peared  and  disappeared  among  the  trees 
or  behind  some  rising  ground  the  effect 
was  always  picturesque.  The  valley  was 
charming  after  so  much  desert,  for  it 
was  long  since  we  had  seen  a  good  tree. 
The  principal  one  in  Cheyenne  was  not 
larger  than  a  lilac-bush,  and  had  to  be 
kept  wrapped .  in  wet  towels.  The  light 
vivid  tints  of  the  box-elder  contrasted 
well  with  the  silvery  willows  and  cotton- 
woods,  and  still  better  with  the  long 
rows  of  sage-brush  in  the  foreground 
and  the  yellowish  cliffs  behind.  A  high, 
singular  butte  called  Chimney  Rock  was 
conspicuous  for  many  miles,  also  a  long 
one  called  the  Table.  There  were  sev- 
eral ranches  in  the  valley  and  many 
splendid  cattle. 

About    ten    o'clock    we    stopped    at 
Colonel  Bullock's   ranch.     Not  a   soul 


24  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

within  :  all  hands  were  gone  oflf  to  a 
"rounding  out,"  or  branding  of  cattle, 
— a  wild  scene,  they  say,  and  worth 
seeing.  The  herders,  rough  men  with 
shaggy  hair  and  wild,  staring  eyes,  in 
butternut  trousers  stuffed  into  great 
rough  boots,  drive  the  cattle  together,  a 
mass  of  tossing  horns  and  hoofs,  and 
brand  the  names  of  their  several  owners 
upon  them, — a  work  full  of  excitement 
and  not  unattended  with  peril.  We 
looked  curiously  about  the  ranch,  which 
resembled  others  we  had  seen :  a  log 
house,  furnished  with  the  necessaries  of 
life,  with  buffalo  skins  and  arms  in 
plenty  lying  about,  and  some  hanging 
shelves  containing  a  number  of  very 
good  books,  including  a  classical  diction- 
ary. About  the  middle  of  the  day  we 
rested  a  few  minutes  at  Owen's  ranch, 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  25 

where  lived  a  handsome  blond  young 
man  with  a  nice  white  wife.  His  corral 
was  surrounded  with  a  wall  of  neat 
masonry,  instead  of  the  usual  crooked 
posts.  Here  were  Chug  Springs,  the 
head  of  a  branch  stream,  and  from 
thence  we  went  over  what  we  were  told 
was  the  toughest  divide  in  the  whole 
country.  The  heat  was  scorching  over 
the  dreary,  dusty  wastes  of  sand  and 
alkali,  where  hardly  the  cactus  could 
find  sustenance.  This  was  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  Mauvaises  Terres,  the 
alkali-lands,  which  turn  up  their  white 
linings  here  and  there,  but  do  not  quite 
prevail  on  this  side  the  Platte.  The 
Black  Hills  of  Wyoming,  with  their 
dark  jagged  outlines,  gave  life  to  the 
backward  view,  and  when  they  were 
concealed  Laramie  Peak   appeared    on 


26  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

the  left,  a  mountain  of  noble  form  and 
color.  At  Eagle's  Nest  the  yellow  bluffs 
again  started  up,  opening  with  a  striking 
gate-way  through  which  a  fine  picture 
of  the  blue  peak  showed  itself  down  a 
dry  valley,  a  chimney  rock  in  the  fore- 
ground giving  emphasis  to  the  view. 
The  bluffs  disappeared,  and  there  was 
again  the  desert,  and  always  the  desert, 
with  its  heat  and  dust.  Our  four 
shining  black  mules  went  bravely  on, 
however,  and  at  five  o'clock  we  came  in 
sight  of  Fort  Laramie,  a  little  brown 
spot  far  away  over  the  plain.  In  less 
than  an  hour  we  arrived  at  the  post  in 
a  whirlwind  of  dust. 

We  were  expected,  for  had  we  not 
followed  the  telegraph-wires  ?  Utter 
strangers  as  we  were,  at  once  we  were 
made  to  feel  at  home,  and   everything 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  27 

was  done  for  the  comfort  of  the  weary- 
travellers.  A  description  of  this  fort 
will  do  for  all  the  rest,  though  this  is 
one  of  the  oldest,  largest,  and  most 
important  posts.  There  is  no  sort  of 
fortification  whatever;  a  large  parade- 
ground,  nearly  destitute  of  grass  and 
planted  with  half-dead  trees,  is  sur- 
rounded by  the  barracks  and  quarters, 
neat,  low  buildings,  and  beyond,  at  one 
end,  are  the  ordnance  and  sutler's  stores. 
A  hospital  and  a  large  old  barrack 
called  Bedlam  tower  above  the  rest; 
more  buildings  straggle  away  towards 
the  Laramie  River,  where  there  is  a 
bridge.  The  position  commands  the 
river  and  bluffs.  No  grass,  no  gar- 
dens, no  irrigation,  no  vegetables  nor 
anything  green  is  here.  One  good- 
sized   Cottonwood,  perhaps   coeval   with 


28  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

the  post,  seemed  as  much  of  a  veteran 
as  the  old  artilleryman,  a  character  al- 
ways pointed  out  to  strangers,  who  has 
lived  at  the  post  ever  since  it  was  a  post, 
and  is  distinguished  as  the  ugliest  man 
there.  His  seamed  and  scarred  face 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  through  many 
storms  and  many  Indian  fights.  An- 
other distinguished  character  is  the  pet 
elk,  a  privileged  person,  who  abuses  his 
privileges  by  walking  into  houses  and 
eating  up  hats,  shoes,  window-curtains, 
toys, — anything  to  satisfy  his  voracious 
appetite. 

On  the  14th  of  July  we  were  oS  for 
Fort  Fetterman.  To  our  surprise  the 
morning  was  delicious,  though  the  mer- 
cury at  noon  the  day  before  had  ranged 
at  over  100°  in  the  shade.  Laramie 
Peak  was  still  in  sight,  and  was  so,  in 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  29 

fact,  for  weeks,  till  upon  nearer  ac- 
quaintance the  fine  old  mountain  became 
a  friend  for  life.  The  country  was  still 
wilder  and  lonelier  than  that  we  had 
seen,  and  not  a  single  habitation  lay 
upon  our  route.  All  had  been  burnt 
by  the  Indians.  We  followed  at  some 
distance  the  right  bank  of  the  North 
Platte,  all  day  over  a  barren  country  of 
low  hills  and  scattered  pines,  bounded 
by  a  range  of  whitish  bluffs  beyond  the 
river.  We  halted  a  few  moments  at 
Warm  Spring,  where  a  clear  basin  of 
tepid  water  bubbled  and  boiled  and  over- 
flowed into  a  good-sized  brook.  Then 
on  to  Big  Bitter  Cottonwood,  where  we 
had  our  nooning  among  the  trees  on  the 
wide  sandy  bed  of  the  stream,  which 
had  sunk  under  ground  for  many  miles, 
as  is  the   custom   of   rivers    here.     It 


30  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

gushed  forth  near  by,  however,  in  copi- 
ous springs,  which  gave  us  abundance 
of  water  and  supported  quite  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  vegetation.  Wild  currants 
delighted  the  children,  clematis  twined 
its  white  blossoms  among  the  scarlet 
buffalo-berries,  graceful  osiers  waved  in 
the  wind,  and  wild  flowers  were  plen- 
tiful. It  was  a  pleasant  place  among  the 
wilds,  and  had  perhaps  been  a  happy 
home,  for  here  were  the  ruins  of  a  ranch 
burnt  by  the  Indians.  Here,  too,  were 
other  ruins,— of  beaver-dams  built  by 
the  first  settlers  of  all. 

Leaving  this  creek  we  went  on  to 
Little  Bitter  Cottonwood,  a  similar  dry 
creek,  but  smaller  and  more  lightly  tim- 
bered. Then  passing  some  more  low 
hills  with  a  few  pines,  always  with  the 
Platte  on  the  right  and  Laramie  Peak 


IJSr  AN  AMBULANCE,  31 

on  the  left,  we  crossed  a  long  hill  or 
divide  called  Bull  Bend,  and  descended 
into  the  fine  valley  of  Horseshoe  Creek. 
We  were  now  upon  the  old  Overland 
Route  to  California,  once  so  much  trav- 
elled, but  now  deserted  for  the  railroad. 
Here  was  the  abode  of  Jack  Slade,  one 
of  the  station-masters  on  that  famous 
stage-road, — a  man  of  bad  reputation, 
and  more  than  suspected  of  having  been 
a  freebooter  and  even  a  murderer.  This 
did  not  prevent  his  station  from  being 
one  of  the  best  on  the  road,  his  horses 
always  good,  his  meals  easily  bolted. 
Of  him  and  of  his  band  you  may  read 
the  history  in  Mark  Twain's  "  Boughing 
It."  After  the  railroad  was  finished  the 
Indians  descended  upon  these  lonely 
ranches  in  the  valley  of  the  Platte,  now 
left    out   in    the    cold ;     they    attacked 


32  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

Blade's  house  one  morning  in  force,  and 
there  was  a  savage  fight.  Jack  and  his 
band  succeeded  in  driving  them  off,  but 
the  next  day  the  Indians  returned  in 
larger  numbers,  killed  some  of  the 
whites,  and  burnt  the  ranch.  We  next 
hear  of  Jack  Slade  in  Montana,  where 
he  took  to  his  old  trade  again.  The 
Vigilants  thought  they  must  "  draw  the 
line  somewhere,"  so  they  drew  it  at  Jack 
Slade.  He  escaped  several  times  the 
threatened  vengeance,  saved  by  the  in- 
tercession of  his  wife,  a  faithful  and  de- 
termined woman,  but  he  did  not  mend 
his  ways.  One  day  when  she  was  ab- 
sent they  took  him  and  hung  him  to  a 
tree.  Strange  to  say,  he  did  not  ^^die 
game."  His  wife  came  galloping  in  on 
the  scene,  but  it  was  too  late :  all  was 
over  for  Jack  Slade. 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  33 

It  was  strange  and  interesting  to  hear 
this  wild  story  in  the  very  spot  where  it 
happened, — to  see  the  blackened  ruins 
and  the  graves  of  those  who  fell  in  that 
long  day's  struggle,  the  lonely  bluflfs 
that  once  looked  down  on  Jack  Blade's 
ranch  and  echoed  to  the  trot  of  his 
famous  teams.  The  creek  here  makes  a 
wide  bend,  leaving  a  fertile  intervale 
where  thousands  of  cattle  could  graze; 
the  trees  are  always  green,  the  river 
never  dry.  About  three  o'clock  we 
came  to  our  camping-ground  among  the 
timber  on  the  clear  stream,  over  against 
the  inevitable  bluffs.  Fire  had  de- 
stroyed some  of  the  finest  trees,  and  on 
the  great  black  trunks  sat  flocks  of  chat- 
tering blackbirds;  the  little  chickadee's 
familiar  note  was  heard,  and  a  crane 
flew   away  with    his    long  legs    behind 


34  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

him,  just  as  he  looks  on  a  Japanese 
tray.  The  scene  of  encamping  is  ever 
new  and  delightful.  The  soldiers  are 
busy  in  pitching  tents,  unloading  wagons, 
and  gathering  wood ;  horses  and  mules 
are  whinnying,  rolling,  and  drinking; 
Jeflf,  the  black  cook,  is  kindling  a  fire 
in  his  stove;  children  are  running  about, 
and  groups  in  bright  colors  are  making, 
unconsciously,  all  sorts  of  charming  ef- 
fects among  the  white  wagons  and  green 
trees. 

"We  spread  our  blankets  in  the  shade 
and  dream.  The  children's  voices  sound 
pleasantly.  They  are  bathing  in  a  still 
pool  which  the  eddy  makes  behind  the 
bushes,  though  the  cool  clear  water  is 
rushing  down  fast  from  Laramie  Peak. 
It  seems  as  if  we  were  almost  at  the 
world's  end,  so  lonely  is  the  place,  but 


IK  AN  AMBULANCE,  35 

there  is  nothing  to  fear.  Indians .  will 
not  attack  so  large  a  party  as  ours.  A 
strong  wind  rises  and  sways  the  willows, 
making  the  wild  scene  wilder  than  ever ; 
a  blood-red  sunset  flames  from  the  hori- 
zon to  the  upper  sky ;  and  as  it  darkens, 
and  the  wolves  begin  to  howl,  we  think 
of  Jack  Slade  and  all  the  wild  stories 
we  have  heard  of  robbers  and  fights 
and  Indian  massacres. 

At  reveille  we  all  started  up.  It  was 
4.30  A.M.  Had  we  slept  ?  We  knew  not. 
All  had  been  blankets  and — blank.  A 
pail  of  water  and  a  tin  basin,  a  little 
"  Colgate"  for  cosmetic,  on  went  the 
warm  flannels,  and  we  were  ready  by 
five  o'clock  for  breakfast  in  the  dining- 
tent.  Here  we  had  camp-stools  and 
tables,  and  upon  the  latter  coffee,  beef- 
steaks,   fried    potatoes,    preserves,    and 


36  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

olives.  Though  all  our  meals  had  to 
be  very  much  alike,  they  were  always 
excellent  and  did  credit  to  the  commis- 
sariat.  As  Carlyle  remarks,  "  Honor  be 
to  the  man  who  cans !  He  is  Canning, 
Konig,  or  King!"  How  people  lived 
here  before  the  days  of  canned  vege- 
tables it  is  hard  to  imagine.  Before  six 
we  were  packed  and  off  again.  The 
morning  ride  in  the  cool  invigorating 
air  before  the  heat  of  the  day  came  on 
was  the  most  delightful  of  our  experi- 
ences. 

Winding  first  through  a  pass  between 
hills  of  sandstone  and  rubble,  where 
moss-agates,  are  found  (an  excellent 
place  for  an  ambush),  we  followed  the 
same  sort  of  country  as  before  over  a 
succession  of  small  creeks  and  divides. 
These  table-lands  were  always    barren 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  37 

and  covered  with  the  same  thin  gray 
vegetation,  but  sometimes  adorned  with 
a  few  flowers, — ^the  beautiful  agemone  or 
prickly  poppy,  with  its  blue-green  leaves, 
large  white  petals,  and  crown  of  golden 
stamens ;  the  pretty  fragrant  abronia, 
and  the  white  Oenothera.  A  deep  pink 
convolvulus  was  common,  which  grew 
upon  a  bush,  not  on  a  vine,  and  was  a 
large  and  thrifty  plant.  Sage  and 
wormwood  were  seen  everywhere,  and 
on  the  streams  we  found  larkspur,  aco- 
nite, little  white  daisies  and  lungwort, 
lupines,  and  the  ever-present  sunflower. 
But  usually  all  was  barren, — barren  hills, 
barren  valleys,  barren  plains.  Some- 
times we  came  upon  tracts  of  buffalo- 
grass,  a  thin,  low,  wiry  grass  that  grows 
in  small  tufts,  and  does  not  look  as  if 
there  were  any  nourishment  in  it,  but  is 


38  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

said  to  be  more  fattening  than  corn. 
Our  animals  ate  it  with  avidity.  Was 
not  all  this  dreary  waste  wearily  monot- 
onous and  tame  ?  Monotonous,  yes ;  but 
no  more  tame  than  the  sea  is  tame. 
We  sailed  along  day  after  day  over  the 
land-waves  as  on  a  voyage.  To  ride 
over  those  lonely  divides  in  the  fresh 
morning  air  made  us  feel  as  if  we  had 
breakfasted  on  flying-fish.  We  felt  what 
Shelley  sings  of  the  power  of  "  all  waste 
and  solitary  places ;"  we  felt  their  bound- 
l^sness,  their  freedom,  their  wild  flavor  ; 
we  were  penetrated  with  their  solemn 
beauty.  Here  the  eyesight  is  clearer, 
the  mind  is  brighter,  the  observation  is 
quickened  :  every  animal,  insect,  and 
bird  makes  its  distinct  impression,  every 
object  its  mark.  There  is  something  on 
the  Plains  that  cannot  be   found   else- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  39 

where, — something  which  can  be  felt 
better  than  described, — something  you 
must  go  there  to  find. 

Under  the  superb  blue  sky  we  went 
on  and  on,  over  a  country  all  tops  and 
bottoms,  some  of  the  bottoms  with  wet 
creeks,  most  of  them  with  dry.  We 
lunched  at  a  pretty  creek,  a  wet  one, 
called  La  Bonte  (it  is  charming  to  find 
the  soft  French  and  Spanish  names  so 
common  here),  a  pleasant  timbered 
stream,  and  a  great  place  for  Indian 
massacres.  The  ruins  of  the  ranches 
once  standing  in  this  valley  are  still  to 
be  seen,  and  the  graves  of  a  lieutenant 
and  twenty-four  soldiers  killed  by  the 
Indians  many  years  ago. 

The  afternoon  sun  blazed  upon  the 
low  hills,  mere  heaps  of  rubble  like  old 
moraines,  where  sometimes   a  little  red 


40  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

sandstone  cropped  out  and  gave  the 
wearied  eyes  a  change  of  color.  Always 
the  noble  vault  of  sky,  the  flying  cloud- 
shadows,  the  Laramie  range  with  its 
torn  outlines  softened  by  distance,  which 
looked  so  near,  yet  was  so  far.  Con- 
stantly we  said,  "  How  like  to  Arabia  or 
Palestine!"  We  only  asked  for  camels 
to  make  the  resemblance  perfect.  The 
gray  sage-brush  tinted  the  long,  low,  sol- 
emn hills  like  the  olives  of  Judsea ;  the 
distant  blulBfs  looked  like  ruined  cities; 
the  mirage  was  our  Dead  Sea.  The 
cattle-  and  sheep-farmers  follow  the 
same  business  as  Abraham  and  Isaac, 
and  are  as  sharp  in  their  dealings  as 
Jacob  of  old.  The  Indians  are  our 
Bedouins,  and  like  them  they  "  fold 
their  tents  and  silently  steal."  Once  in 
looking  back  the  illusion  was  perfect. 


m  AN^  AMBULAKCE.  41 

The  Sea  of  Galilee  was  behind  us,  and 
upon  its  banks  stood  the  old  cities  of 
Capernaum  and  Nazareth,  towered  and 
walled  and  gray.  We  had  not  then 
seen  the  verses  of  Joaquin  Miller,  in 
which  he  expresses  the  same  idea  in 
better  words, — in  words  of  prophecy. 

After  a  long  hot  ride  we  were  glad 
to  see  the  flag  waving  over  Fort  Fetter- 
man,  though  the  signs  of  human  habi- 
tation did  not  seem  to  belong  there. 
The  post  is  not  as  large  as  Fort  Lara- 
mie, but  otherwise  as  like  it  as  one  pea 
to  another,  and  stands  in  the  same  way 
at  the  junction  of  a  stream  (La  Prele) 
with  the  Platte,  upon  a  bluff*  that  com- 
mands the  two  rivers.  The  view  from 
thence  at  the  moment  of  sunset  was  im- 
pressive,— of  the  two  streams,  bordered 
with  green,  and  the  vast  country  beyond 


4* 


42  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

the  Platte,   more   barren   and    alkaline 
even  than  the  nearer  side. 

At  the  fort  we  found  the  same  kind- 
ness and  hospitality  as  at  Laramie.  Our 
quarters  were  in  a  large  empty  house, 
the  abode  of  the  commanding  officer  of 
the  post,  then  absent  with  his  family, 
where  we  were  made  very  comfortable. 
Our  meals  were  provided  at  other  offi- 
cers' quarters,  and  everything  was  done 
for  our  entertainment.  Our  rooms  were 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  we  were  star- 
tled at  reveille  to  see  five  or  six  dogs 
leap  in  at  the  open  windows  and  run 
about  the  floor.  Just  awakened,  we 
hardly  knew  in  the  dim  light  what 
manner  of  wild  beasts  they  might  be. 
Afterwards  we  heard  that  this  was  the 
custom  in  the  family.  A  pet  porcupine 
in   the    house    amused    us   very   much. 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  43 

He  was  a  grotesque  little  creature,  and 
very  tame  and  affectionate,  following  the 
servant  about  like  a  little  dog  and  fon- 
dling her  feet.  His  quills  had  been 
drawn  or  shed,  but  they  were  begin- 
ning to  grow  again,  like  pin-feathers. 

In  this  quiet,  kindly  little  post  nothing 
seems  ever  to  happen,  but  the  air  is 
full  of  Indian  rumors.  A  Gatling  gun, 
pointed  at  the  universe,  seemed  to 
promise  the  enemy  a  sharp  reception  if 
a  scare  ever  came.  This  diabolical  little 
mitrailleuse  would  not  be  pleasant  to 
look  upon  as  it  ground  out  grim  death 
in  such  a  matter-of-fact  way.  A  few 
days  were  very  agreeably  spent  at  Fet- 
terman  (of  which  the  very  name  tells  of 
Indian  murders),  and  there  we  found 
courteous,  educated  men  and  gracious, 
lovely  women.     It  was  wonderful  what 


44  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

elegant  little  entertainments  they  man- 
aged to  give  us  in  this  far-away  outpost 
of  civilization. 

On  Saturday,  July  18,  we  set  out  to 
return  to  Fort  Laramie.  The  route  was 
the  same,  and  nothing  occurred  to  vary 
it  save  the  little  incidents,  not  worth 
telling,  which  yet  give  the  real  charm 
to  a  journey.  Our  party  was  made  still 
larger  by  the  addition  of  some  mounted 
traders  and  their  train  of  wagons.  It 
was  always  pleasant  to  see  them,  for 
there  are  no  such  riders  as  upon  the 
frontier,  where  every  one  sits  easily  and 
perfectly,  and  the  large  boots  and  the 
sombreros  make  every  man  a  picture. 
Again  we  were  on  La  Bonte  at  noon, 
on  Horseshoe  at  night.  We  begin  to 
feel  at  home  here,  and  it  is  truly  a  place 
to  like,  with   its  many  bird-voices  and 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  45 

rushing  breezes.  We  encamp;  the  sol- 
diers laugh  and  sing ;  a  simple  joke 
seems  to  go  a  great  way ;  one  lassos 
another,  and  all  roar  when  he  misses. 
The  steam  of  cooking  rises  on  the  air; 
we  feel  again  the  charm  of  camp-life, 
and  our  sleep  is  sweet  in  the  night. 
Once  more  the  morning  red  flashes 
upon  the  sky,  then  changes  to  yellow 
and  to  gray.  Clouds  come  over,  the 
roaring  wind  that  always  blows  at 
Horseshoe  scatters  the  limbs  from  the 
burnt  trees,  but  it  will  not  rain.  No 
such  luck,  but  it  will  be  cool  and 
pleasant  for  our  journey.  Passing  by 
the  ruins  of  Jack  Blade's  ranch,  the 
long  curve  of  the  Horseshoe,  the  bluffs 
and  the  plains,  we  are  once  more  at 
Fort  Laramie  and  sitting  in  the  cool 
evening  air  upon  the   friendly  veranda 


46  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

of    Major   W ,    hearing    the    band 

play. 

Our  stay  at  the  post  was  short,  but 
we  had  time  to  attend  a  charming  little 
ball  given  us  by  the  oflBcers  and  to  drive 
along  the  really  pretty  banks  of  the 
Laramie.  And  now  we  were  to  leave 
them  once  more  for  a  wilder  country 
still,  the  Indian  Territory  itself,  and  to 
visit  Ked  Cloud  and  Spotted  Tail  agen- 
cies, the  names  of  which  alone  gave  us 
a  sense  of  adventure  and  of  nearness 
to  savage  life.  Our  escort  was  increased 
to  fifty  men,  under  command  of  Cap- 
tain S and  two  lieutenants,  and  we 

took  along  with  us  a  large  supply-train 
for  the  agencies  of  about  thirty  wagons, 
so  that,  numbering  the  teamsters  and 
drivers,  our  party  was  at  least  one  hun- 
dred strong. 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  47 

Fording  the  Platte,  a  large  deep 
stream,  was  a  little  unpleasant  to  us 
novices,  for  we  tumbled  about  a  great 
deal  over  the  stones  in  the  river-bed, 
and  felt  as  if  an  upset  was  quite  possi- 
ble. The  crossing  is  sometimes  danger- 
ous, and  there  is  a  rope-ferry,  but  to-day 
the  water  was  low  and  fordable  with 
ease.  We  are  now  no  longer  in  the 
United  States,  but  in  the  Indian  coun- 
try. No  ladies  have  ever  taken  this 
journey  before  except  the  wives  of  the 
agents,  who  have  been  there  but  a  few 
weeks.  In  fact,  these  agencies  were  only 
established  a  short  time  ago,  and  the 
Indians  are  not  yet  very  friendly  to 
them.  The  country  was  wilder,  vaster, 
and  more  barren  than  ever,  with  fewer 
streams  and  broader  divides.  Tanta- 
lizing showers  flying  across  the  distant 


48  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

mountains  did  not  cool  the  dry,  hot  air. 
At  noon  we  began  to  see  a  long  detached 
ridge,  an  advanced  post  of  the  Rockies, 
called  Rawhide  Peak,  and  at  night  we 
camped  on  Rawhide  Creek,  a  rather 
desolate  stream,  without  timber,  bor- 
dered only  with  shrubs  and  weeds.  It 
seemed  cheerful,  however,  upon  its  stony 
banks  with  such  a  gay  crowd  as  we  had, 
so  many  soldiers  and  other  people  about, 
with  their  wagons,  horses,  mules,  tents, 
and  mess-chests.  But  a  great  black 
cloud  was  rising  over  Rawhide  Peak, 
and  just  as  we  were  seated  comfortably 
at  dinner  down  came  the  whirlwind 
upon  us,  nearly  blew  over  our  tent,  and 
covered  our  dinner  with  a  thick  coating 
of  the  dust  of  the  Plains.  Beds, 
clothing,  hair,  mouths,  noses  were  full 
of  the  fine  gray  powder.     What  if  our 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  49 

dinner  was  spoiled  ?  'Twas  but  the  for- 
tune of  war.  The  blow  was  soon  over, 
and  we  managed  to  dine  off  the  scraps, 
so  as  not  to  go  quite  hungry  to  bed. 
The  rain  poured  down  for  five  minutes 
and  laid  the  dust  when  too  late,  the  sky 
cleared,  and  a  wonderful  rainbow,  three 
deep,  appeared  in  the  east.  The  sunset 
was  one  not  to  be  forgotten.  The  deep 
blue-black  of  Rawhide  Peak,  cut  sharp 
by  the  clear  gleaming  apricot  sky,  and 
above  the  flying  clouds,  wavered  and 
pulsed  with  color  and  flame.  We 
watched  them  by  the  camp-fire  till  twi- 
light faded  and  moon  and  stars  shone 
with  desert  brilliancy.  Shaking  the  dust 
from  our  beds  as  a  testimony  against  the 
spiteful  spirits  of  Kawhide  Peak,  we 
slept  with  our  usual  profundity.  Al- 
ways, however,  before  bedtime  we  had 


50  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

to  go  through  the  little  ceremony  of  re- 
moving the  burs  from  our  clothing,  for 
every  plant  in  this  country  seems  to 
have  a  bur  or  a  tick-seed,  and  we  found 
a  new  one  in  every  camp.  Sometimes 
they  were  arrows  or  needles  an  inch 
long,  sometimes  triangles  with  sharp  cor- 
ners, sometimes  little  spiked  balls,  some- 
times long  bags  with  prongs.  There 
was  no  end  to  their  number  and  variety, 
and  they  grew  to  be  one  of  our  studies. 
After  the  first  wrench  of  waking,  the 
morning,  from  dawn  to  sunrise,  was  al- 
ways beautiful.  It  amused  us  while 
dressing  to  watch  the  ears  of  the  mules 
moving  against  the  pale  yellow  sky  and 
the  men,  like  black  ghosts,  stealing 
about.  We  crossed  a  wide,  noble  mesa 
clothed  with  buflfalo-grass :  there  was  no 
heat,  no  dust,  and  the  long  caravan  be- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  5I 

fore  US  made,  as  usual,  a  moving  pic- 
ture. The  desert  looked  more  like  Pal- 
estine than  ever,  with  the  low  buttes 
and  sandhills  yellow  in  the  distance. 
"  Towered  cities  called  us  then,"  yet 
when  we  reached  them  we  found  but 
desolation,  "and  the  fox  looked  out  of 
the  window."  The  queer  little  horned 
frogs,  lizards,  rattlesnakes,  and  coyotes 
were  the  sole  inhabitants.  "  Them  sand- 
hills," we  were  told,  "  tracks  across  the 
country  for  a  thousand  mile." 

Our  next  halt  was  at  Niobrara  Creek, 
called  also  L'eau  qui  court  and  Run- 
ning Water.  These  three  names  (all 
with  the  same  meaning)  are  far  prettier 
than  the  place.  Not  a  stick  of  timber, 
not  a  shrub,  can  be  seen  upon  its  banks. 
There  was  a  flowing  stream,  a  wide 
meadow,  full  of  what  looked  like  pink 


52  EIGHT  HUKDRED  MILES 

clover,  but  was  only  a  bitter  weed,  and 
behind  and  before  us  the  desert,  in 
which  our  lively  little  camp  was  the 
only  life  to  be  seen.  We  soon  found 
that  we  were  not  beyond  the  power  of 
the  spirits  of  Rawhide  Peak.  "  O'er 
the  far  blue  mountain"  came  the  whirl- 
wind punctually  at  dinner-time,  but, 
fortunately,  we  had  been  somewhat 
beforehand  with  it  and  had  already 
stowed  away  our  soup  safely.  The  dust 
could  not  get  at  the  champagne  which 
we  drank  in  honor  of  a  wedding  anni- 
versary. Lighting  our  camp-fire,  we  for- 
got all  else  in  listening  to  stories  of 
the  war  and  its  heroic  life;  of  Indian 
scares  and  massacres ;  of  handfuls  of 
men  defending  themselves  behind  their 
dead  horses  and  driving  back  the  foe; 
of  brave  young  fellows  lying  cold  and 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  53 

mutilated  upon  the  Plains ;  of  freezing 
storms  of  snow  and  hail ;  and  of  the 
many  hair-breadth  'scapes  and  perils  of 
the  wilderness,  till  we  all  became  Des- 
demonas  of  the  hour.  We  felt  that 
though  we  were  probably  as  safe  as  ever 
in  our  lives,  yet  there  were  possibilities 
that  gave  our  position  just  enough  spice 
of  danger  to  be  exciting. 

Looking  out  during  the  night  I  saw 
a  misshapen  gibbous  moon  of  a  strange 
green-cheese  color,  setting  between  the 
four  legs  of  a  mule,  whose  body  made 
an  arched  frame  for  it.  The  effect  was 
most  grotesque.  A  ride  on  horseback 
next  morning  over  the  fresh  breezy 
divide  was  a  charming  change  from  the 
monotonous  'bus.  How  the  larks  sang 
for  us  on  that  bright  morning,  and  coy- 
otes and  blackbirds  with  white  wings 
5* 


54  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

fled  away  before  us !  A  little  after  noon 
we  struck  the  sources  of  the  White 
River,  pleasant  springs  on  a  hill-side, 
bubbling  forth  among  the  first  trees  we 
had  seen  since  we  left  the  Laramie. 
Then  we  descended  into  a  fine  shady 
valley ;  all  our  old  friends  were  there 
in  thickets, — the  box-elder,  willow,  birch, 
and  Cottonwood,  the  alder,  osier,  and 
wild  cherry,  currant,  gooseberry,  buffalo- 
berry,  and  clematis.  As  we  went  on, 
brushing  through  the  thick  foliage,  the 
hills  on  either  side  became  higher  and 
grew  into  bastions,  castles,  donjon-keeps, 
and  fantastic  clustered  chimneys,  like 
Scott's  description  of  the  valley  of  St. 
John.  The  river  went  circling  about 
through  the  intervale,  so  that  we  had  to 
cross  it  constantly  upon  the  little  bridges 
made  during  the  White  River  expedi- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  55 

tion  in  the  February  before.  It  was 
pleasant  thus  to  wind  along  under  the 
overarching  boughs,  coming  frequently 
upon  some  pretty  reach  of  the  stream 
where  we  could  watch  the  caval- 
cade crossing,  dashing  out  from  under 
the  bushes  or  watering  the  horses,  while 
the  heavy  white-topped  wagons  plunged 
into  the  water  and  slowly  mounted  the 
opposite  bank.  In  the  distance  the  men 
were  scouring  the  hill-sides  for  deer,  and 
perhaps  looking  out  a  little  for  Indians 
also.  We  went  on  in  military  order, 
with  mounted  pickets  in  advance,  in  the 
rear,  and  on  both  sides;  not  that  there 
was  any  danger,  but  an  Indian  is  an 
inscrutable  mystery,  a  wolf  on  two  legs, 
and  it  is  not  easy  to  know  what  he 
may  do. 

The  valley  grew  wider  and  spread  into 


56  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

a  great  bare  plain,  still  bordered  with 
pine-sprinkled  bluflfs,  through  which  the 
river  dodged  about  without  any  appar- 
ent reason,  and  wherever  it  went  the 
trees  followed.  Before  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  agency  we  were  met  by  several 
officers  and  traders,  glad  of  a  little 
change  of  society.  They  conducted  us 
to  our  camp  on  a  pleasant  rising  ground 
about  a  mile  from  the  agency,  overlook- 
ing the  cavalry  and  infantry  camps  in 
front  and  rear.  It  is  a  wild,  lonely, 
fascinating  place,  this  White  River  Val- 
ley, shut  out  from  the  world  by  its 
castled  bluflfs,  though  should  we  climb 
them  we  should  only  find  another 
desert.  We  dined  under  a  bower  of 
pine  boughs  beside  our  tents  that  served 
for  a  parlor.  In  the  evening  everybody 
called  to  see  us,  including  the  only  two 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  57 

ladies  in  the  place,  wives  of  the  traders, 
who  looked  too  delicate  to  bear  the 
hardships  of  the  wilderness.  Perhaps 
the  hardships  are  not  great,  but  the 
loneliness  must  be  terrible  in  the  long, 
long  winters. 

The  next  day  we  drove  over  to  the 
agency,  eager  to  see  the  Indian  dance 
that  had  been  promised  us.  The  place 
consists  of  several  government  and  pri- 
vate buildings  surrounded  by  a  stockade. 
When  we  arrived  a  large  number  of  In- 
dians were  already  there,  mostly  squaws 
and  children,  mounted  on  ponies  and 
dressed  in  their  gayest  blankets  and 
embroideries.  Their  ponies  are  very 
pretty,  small,  gracefully-formed  horses, 
not  clumsy  as  we  had  expected.  The 
mantles  of  the  squaws  were  of  deer- 
skin,  but  covered   entirely  with   beads, 


58  EIGHT  BUNDRED  MILES 

the  groundwork  of  deep  sky-blue  ones, 
with  gay  stiff  figures  in  brilliant  colors. 
They  were  gracefully  cut,  somewhat  like 
a  ^'dolman,"  and  had  a  rich,  gorgeous 
effect  in  the  crowd.  Most  of  them  wore 
necklaces  of  "thaqua" — the  quill-like 
white  shell  which  is  brought  from  the 
Pacific,  and  serves  them  for  small  change 
— and  heavy  ear-rings  of  the  same  shells 
a  quarter  of  a  yard  long.  Their  ears 
were  slit  from  top  to  bottom  to  hold 
these  great  ear-rings ;  sometimes  they 
wore  two  pairs,  with  heavy  mother-of- 
pearl  shells  at  the  end  of  each.  The 
necklaces  covered  the  whole  chest,  like 
a  bib  or  a  breastplate.  The  parting  of 
their  long  black  hair  was  painted  red, 
and  their  cheeks  daubed  with  red,  yel- 
low, and  blue.  Most  of  them  had  flat 
faces  and  flat  noses ;   very  few  were  in 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  59 

the  least  good-looking.  Hundreds  were 
waiting  outside  the  gates,  among  them 
some  half-breed  boys. 

Soon  the  braves  began  to  come  in. 
"With  a  glass  we  could  see  great  numbers 
of  them  winding  out  of  the  hills  from 
their  hidden  camps,  well  mounted  and 
flashing  with  bright  arms  and  gay  trap- 
pings. It  was  a  strange,  wonderful 
scene  of  motion  and  color,  with  the 
gray,  unchangeable  desert  and  the  pale 
walls  of  the  buttes  for  a  background. 
The  men  came  crowding,  tearing  in  at 
a  great  pace,  and  soon  we  could  see  the 
dancing-party  dashing  along  in  all  their 
feathers  and  war-paint,  an  inconceivably 
wild,  savage  cavalcade.  On  they  rushed, 
beating  a  great  drum  in  solemn  cadence, 
shouting,  blowing  fifes,  and  firing  their 
pieces  into  the  air.     There  was  as  much 


60  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

noise  as  on  a  Fourth  of  July.  We  had 
to  stand  back  to  let  them  pass,  for  there 
was  a  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion  as 
they  all,  horse  and  foot,  rushed  pell-mell 
into  the  stockade,  followed  closely  by  the 
squaws  and  children  on  their  spirited 
ponies.  It  was  a  piece  of  real  savage 
life.  Following  after  them,  we  went  up 
into  the  second  story  of  the  agent's 
house,  where  we  could  look  down  upon 
the  barbaric  crowd.  The  squaws  made 
a  brilliant  circle  all  round  the  inside  of 
the  enclosure,  gay  as  a  terrace  of  flowers. 
About  fifteen  men  squatted  round  the 
big  drum,  which  must  have  been  five  or 
six  feet  in  diameter,  and  began  a  weird 
song,  interspersed  with  grunts  and  yells. 
It  had  a  measured  cadence,  but  not  a 
semblance  of  music.  Meanwhile  the 
braves  who  were  to  join  in  the   dance 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  61 

formed  themselves  into  two  circles  of 
about  thirty  men  each,  and  the  rest  sat 
upon  their  horses,  looking  imperturbable. 
The  principal  chiefs  did  not  join  in  the 
dance,  and  two  or  three  came  up  into 
the  room  where  we  were. 

The  dresses  of  the  dancers  were  varied 
and  splendid.  Most  of  them  wore  the 
usual  trousers  or  Indian  leggings  of 
blue  cloth,  cut  oflP  below  the  hips,  with 
another  cloth  for  the  loins,  and  those 
that  had  no  trousers  had  their  legs 
painted.  Embroidered  blankets  of  blue 
or  red  cloth,  moccasins,  belts,  tobacco- 
pouches,  and  cases  for  scalping-knives, 
all  beaded,  with  glittering  arms  and 
tomahawks,  hung  about  them  every- 
where, but  the  chief  piece  of  finery  was 
the  war-bonnet,  and  a  tremendous  show 
it  made.     A   turban  of  fur  or  scarlet 


62  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

cloth  went  round  the  head,  adorned 
with  tall  eagles'  feathers  in  a  crown, 
such  as  we  see  upon  the  wooden  figures 
before  cigar-shops,  and  from  this  hung 
down  a  long  piece  of  scarlet  cloth  about 
a  quarter  of  a  yard  wide,  and  long 
enough  to  trail  on  the  ground  a  yard 
or  two  behind.  This  was  ornamented 
with  a  fringe  of  eagles'  feathers  on  each 
edge,  like  the  backbone  of  a  fish,  and 
as  it  waved  about  nothing  could  be  more 
superb.  The  savage  dandies  were  evi- 
dently proud  of  their  appearance,  and  to 
say  that  they  were  "  got  up  regardless  of 
expense"  was  simply  a  fact,  for  their 
wardrobes  must  have  cost  considerable 
sums, — half  a  dozen  ponies  at  least. 
Standing  in  a  circle,  they  danced,  shout- 
ing and  singing.  It  was  a  slow  meas- 
ured step,  but  no  more  like  dancing  than 


IJSr  AN  AMBULANCE,  63 

their  singing  was  like  singing.  Another 
gorgeous  circle  was  formed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stockade,  and  both  parties 
kept  up  this  weird  dance  with  great 
gravity.  One  young  fellow  laughed, 
twisted  about,  and  conducted  himself  a 
little  like  a  harlequin.  All  held  the 
hands  upon  the  haunches  and  bent  for- 
ward. This  was  called  an  Omaha  dance. 
After  a  while  all  stopped  dancing,  and 
one  of  the  squad  of  chiefs  rode  into  the 
circle  and  began  to  relate  his  experi- 
ence, while  at  every  pause  the  emphasis 
was  given  by  a  strange  roll  of  the  drum. 
He  was  telling  some  savage  exploit,  the 
interpreter  said,  against  the  Pawnees. 
The  crowd  applauded  with  wild  grunts 
and  savage  cries.  Then  the  circle  rose 
and  danced  again,  then  another  chief 
spoke,  and  so  on,  some  on  foot  and  some 


64  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

on  horseback,  till  one  whom  we  had 
selected  as  the  most  grotesque  horror  of 
the  whole  came  into  the  circle.  He 
-was  painted  all  over  a  greenish  rhubarb 
color,  like  a  stagnant  pool ;  his  chin  was 
blue,  his  face  was  streaked  with  red. 
Hd  wore  a  very  short  shirt  of  deerskin 
with  a  very  deep  fringe  of  black  horse- 
hair. Though  sans  culotte,  his  legs  were 
painted  with  red  and  blue  hands  on 
the  rhubarb  ground;  all  over  his  horse 
were  these  red  and  blue  hands  and  red 
stripes,  and  the  beast  had  a  red  mane 
and  tail.  This  villain,  who  had  a  most 
appropriate  name,  unmentionable  to  ears 
polite,  completed  his  charms  with  a  great 
pair  of  blue  goggles.  The  red  stripes 
upon  his  horse  signij&ed  how  many 
horses  he  had  taken ;  the  red  hands,  the 
jiumber  of  prisoners. 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  65 

The  names  of  these  fellows,  as  trans- 
lated for  us  by  the  interpreter,  were  odd 
enough.  Besides  the  great  chiefs,  Red 
Cloud  and  Spotted  Tail,  there  were  Red 
Dog,  Red  Leaf,  Red  Horse,  Little  Wound, 
White  Crane  Walking,  Man  Afraid  of 
(Losing)  his  Horses,  Crow  that  don't 
like  Water,  Man  who  Sings  in  the  Long 
Grass,  Turkey  Legs,  Lone  Horn,  Sitting 
Bull,  Spider,  Yellow  Bear,  Blue  Horse, 
Two  Strike,  White  Crow,  Long  John, 
Friday,  Face,  Hand,  Man  that  Sleeps 
under  the  Water,  Man  that  Looks  the 
Sun  Blind,  Wish,  Three  Bears,  Blue 
Tomahawk,  White  Thunder,  etc.,  etc. 
These  Indians  were  Sioux  of  the  wildest 
kind,  about  as  savage  as  any  there  are. 
Our  lives  were  in  their  hands,  and  they 
were  well  mounted  and  well  armed. 
Still,  we  were  safe  enough  so  near  the 

6* 


66  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

camp,  for  they  are  very  prudent  and 
never  attack  unless  they  are  five  to  one. 
Besides,  they  have  rations  given  them 
every  ten  days  by  government,  and  they 
don't  quarrel  much  with  their  bread  and 
butter.  In  fact,  they  are  paupers,  and 
we  are  all  taxed  to  support  them  and 
the  army,  which  is  more  than  necessary 
as  a  police  to  keep  them  in  order.  When 
the  dance  was  half  over  about  twenty 
soldiers  came  into  the  gate  and  produced 
quite  a  panic  among  the  squaws  and 
children,  who  shrieked  with  terror  and 
rushed  towards  the  larger  gate.  The 
braves  did  not  think  it  the  correct  thing 
to  show  any  fear. 

One  might  live  a  thousand  years  at 
the  East  and  never  see  anything  so 
wonderful  as  this  dance ;  it  is  impos- 
sible to  give  a  true  idea  of  its  life  and 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  67 

color.  It  was  the  real  thing,  not  a 
theatrical  or  Cooperesque  imitation.  All 
was  new  to  us,  and  we  were  probably  as 
new  and  strange  to  most  of  our  enter- 
tainers. Many  crowded  round  us  with 
evident  curiosity,  desiring  to  shake 
hands  with  us  and  to  say  "  How  ? 
Kola?"  (friend).  Those  who  could 
speak  a  few  words  of  English  plied  us 
with  questions  as  to  our  ages,  the  rela- 
tionships that  existed  between  us,  whose 
squaws  the  ladies  were,  and  whose  were 
the  little  blond-haired  children.  Cer- 
tain articles  of  jfinery  seemed  to  be 
greatly  valued  among  them,  such  as  red, 
white,  and  blue  umbrellas,  like  those 
used  as  signs  in  our  cities;  patchwork 
and  Marseilles  quilts ;  orange  shirts  and 
green  dresses ;  pink  and  pearl  shells ; 
little  bells ;    small  mirrors ;    and  beads 


68  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

about  four  inches  long  made  of  fine 
pipe-clay.  These  beads  cost  a  dollar  and 
a  half  each,  and  are  made  especially  for 
them  in  one  place  in  Massachusetts. 
They  wear  them  in  rows  of  twenty  or 
thirty  on  the  breast,  making  quite  an 
expensive  necklace. 

The  dance  lasted,  perhaps,  two  hours. 
After  all  were  tired  presents  were 
brought  and  laid  upon  the  ground,  con- 
sisting of  hard-tack,  calico,  etc.  All 
through  the  dance  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing the  dust  about  in  clouds,  and  the 
Indians  held  their  blankets  and  fans 
of  eagles'  feathers  to  their  eyes.  Sev- 
eral wore  blue  goggles, — we  knew  not 
whether  for  use  or  beauty. 

We  remained  four  days  at  Red  Cloud, 
where  the  officers  and  traders  did  every- 
thing they  could  to  make  it  pleasant  for 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  QQ 

US.  Our  stay  was  prolonged  by  waiting 
for  the  Sun  Dance,  a  sort  of  movable 
summer  festival,  which  was  expected  to 
begin  at  any  moment.  The  weather 
was  cool,  the  situation  of  our  little  camp 
pretty  and  pleasant.  One  of  our  amuse- 
ments was  to  visit  the  trader's  store,  in- 
spect the  odd  collection  of  Indian  goods, 
and  make  purchases  for  gifts.  We 
bought  gay  calicoes,  cloth,  mirrors,  bells, 
umbrellas,  paint,  and  shells.  Returning 
one  day  to  camp  we  met  old  Red  Cloud 
and  his  family  in  their  own  carriage,  a 
large  carry-all  or  ambulance.  He  had 
been  to  call  upon  us  with  some  of  his 
squaws  and  children.  He  alighted  and 
greeted  us  good-humoredly,  shook  hands 
all  round,  and  said  '^How?  Kola?"  to 
each.  He  is  a  big,  middle-aged  Indian, 
with  rather  a  good  face,  and  was  dressed 


70  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

in  a  blue  flannel  shirt  and  trousers, 
blue  blanket,  and  black  felt  hat  with 
an  eagle's  feather.  He  is  of  larger, 
heavier  build  than  most  of  the  Indians, 
who  do  not  appear  very  tall  or  muscular, 
especially  the  young  ones.  They  are 
wiry  and  agile,  but  it  is  probable  a 
white  man  of  active  habits  would  be 
more  than  a  match  for  an  Indian.  Cap- 
tain S told  us  that  he  had  a  hand- 
to-hand  tussle  with  one  of  them  soon 
after  the  war,  when  he  was  still  weak- 
ened by  long  confinement  in  Southern 
prisons.  Having  dropped  his  pistol  in 
falling  down  hill,  an  Indian  rushed  out 
at  him,  but  he  managed  to  hold  the 
savage  and  prevent  his  using  his  knife 
till  a  soldier  came  up  to  help  him. 

The   first   ball    ever  given   at   Camp 
Robinson  was  in  our  honor,  and  a  very 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  7I 

bright  little  party  it  was.  As  no  build- 
ing of  any  kind  existed  in  camp,  and 
the  weather  was  dry  and  fine,  a  large 
space  of  ground  was  covered  with  can- 
vas pegged  down,  and  that  was  our  ball- 
room. The  bower  of  pine  branches 
made  an  excellent  supper-room,  the 
tents  of  course  were  our  dressing-rooms, 
and  the  orchestra  consisted  of  two  fid- 
dles. What  though  they  gave  but  a 
weak,  uncertain  sound  in  the  vast  spaces 
of  the  desert  ?  What  though  the  figures 
were  of  a  kind  unknown  before  ?  What 
if  some  splendid  Chinese  lanterns  made 
of  newspapers  were  our  grandest  illu- 
mination ?  We  had  the  full  moon  pour- 
ing her  yellow  light  over  us,  and  who 
has  not  seen  the  moonlight  of  the  desert 
knows  not  what  that  planet  can  do. 
Our     supper     consisted     of     "  sang- 


72  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

widges/'  biscuits,  and  a  salad  composed 
of  something  mysterious  and  horrible, 
— "big  medicine'^  probably,  as  this  was 
Indian  land.  But  was  there  not  plenty 
of  coffee,  claret-cup,  and  champagne? 
The  temperature  was  perfect,  the  traders 
and  their  wives  honored  us  with  their 
presence,  and  the  ball  at  Red  Cloud  was 
a  grand  success. 

At  last  the  Sun  Dance  was  announced. 
The  great  medicine  pole  was  erected, 
crowds  of  Indians  were  arriving,  and 
we  went  to  their  camp  on  the  morning 
of  July  28  to  see  the  show.  The  camp 
was  a  large  one,  covering  a  great  space, 
with  hundreds  of  tepees  or  tents  and 
thousands  of  Sioux.  Great  herds  of 
ponies  of  every  color  were  feeding  out- 
side. The  Indians  were  said  to  be  un- 
armed, and  our  oflSicers  were  requested 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  73 

to  be  SO.  Of  course  all  had  pistols,  and 
we  saw  plenty  of  bows,  knives,  and 
tomahawks  in  the  camp,  and  muskets 
too,— loaded  only  with  powder  perhaps, 
but  there  was  a  great  popping  of  that. 
The  soldiers  were  not  allowed  to  be 
present  at  the  dance.  The  camp  was 
a  new  and  singular  scene,  with  its  vast 
number  of  tall  conical  tents  arranged 
in  an  irregular  circle,  its  gayly-dressed 
crowds,  its  savage  life  and  motion.  Each 
tent  had  its  soup-kettle,  where  the  little, 
plump,  smooth-skinned  dogs  of  a  pecu- 
liar breed,  which  they  raise  for  the 
table,  were  supposed  to  be  boiling,  and 
each  had  its  medicine  pole  crowned  with 
a  bundle  of  gay  rags  and  red  and  blue 
streamers.  Inside  the  bundle  was  some- 
thing sacred,  supposed  to  be  the  entrails 
of  animals,  a  sort  of  charm  or  fetich  to 


74  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

preserve  from  evil.  Some  of  us  had  a 
fancy  to  taste  the  dog  soup,  which  smelt 
quite  savory,  but  none  was  oflfered  us. 
Our  first  visit  was  to  the  tepee  of  old 
Eed  Cloud,  for  of  course  we  must  re- 
turn his  call.  It  was  large  and  high, 
twenty  feet  in  diameter  at  least,  conical, 
and  shaped  like  a  Sibley  tent.  Around 
the  inside  edge  was  arranged  the  family 
wardrobe,  neatly  folded  and  laid  away 
in  handsomely-painted  bags  of  dressed 
skins,  which  are  their  Saratoga  trunks. 
Next  these  we  sat,  upon  beautiful  blank- 
ets and  skins  spread  on  the  ground. 
There  were  twenty  or  thirty  of  our 
party,  men,  women,  and  children,  and 
nearer  the  door  six  or  eight  chiefs  with 
several  squaws  and  an  interpreter. 
There  were  Ked  Cloud,  Red  Leaf,  Red 
Dog,   Sitting    Bull,   and    Spotted   Tail. 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  75 

All  were  handsomely  dressed  except 
Spotted  Tail,  a  fat,  villanous-looking 
old  fellow  in  a  dirty  brown  calico  shirt 
and  a  shabby  blanket.  On  inquiring 
the  reason  we  were  told  he  was  in 
mourning.  Yet  he  had  no  crape,  jet 
beads,  or  mourning  jewelry, — not  even 
a  black-edged  pocket-handkerchief! 

A  little  conversation  took  place 
through  the  interpreter ;  a  speech  was 
requested  from  Red  Cloud,  but  he 
bowed,  smiled,  looked  foolish,  and  de- 
clined. None  of  the  other  chiefs  would 
speak.  We  were  getting  rather  bored 
when  some  one  proposed  that  we  should 
sing.  A  motley  company,  representing 
East,  West,  North,  and  South,  Union 
soldiers,  Mosby's  ex-guerillas,  belles  and 
babies,  we  all  joined  in  the  "Lord's 
songs  in  that  strange  land/'  and  sang 


76  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

"Tramp!  tramp!"  "John  Brown,"  the 
"Star-Spangled  Banner,"  "Sweet  Home," 
and  everything  else  we  could  think  of. 
It  was  not  easy  to  tell  whether  those  im- 
passible savages  liked  the  music  or  not, 
but  they  smiled  and  looked  pleased,  and 
a  crowd  came  round  the  outside  of  the 
tent  to  listen.  It  is  not  likely  that  any 
part-singing  had  ever  been  heard  in 
that  camp  before. 

After  presenting  our  gifts  we  paid  a 
short  visit  to  Red  Dog  in  his  tepee,  and 
then  proceeded  to  the  great  medicine 
booth,  where  the  Sun  Dance  was  to  take 
place.  This  was  a  very  large  circular 
wigwam,  with  an  open  space  in  the 
middle, — the  rude  germ  of  an  amphi- 
theatre. In  the  centre  was  a  tall  medi- 
cine pole  with  gay  streamers  and  its 
usual  queer,  mysterious  bundle.    Crowds 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  77 

on  foot  and  on  horseback  were  gathered 
within  and  without  and  were  pouring 
in  pell-mell,  so  that  we  did  not  see 
how  we  were  going  to  get  in,  till  Red 
Cloud,  coming  up,  knocked  them  to  the 
right  and  left  and  took  us  to  our  "re- 
served seats," — that  is  to  say,  gave  us 
standing-room  close  by  the  big  deafen- 
ing drum.  Room  it  could  not  be  called, 
for  we  were  constantly  elbowed  by  the 
greasy  crowd.  An  old  crier  called 
Linen  Foot  kept  calling  something  in 
a  loud,  sing-song  tone.  Braves  were 
rushing  in,  mounted  and  on  foot,  shout- 
ing, firing  off  their  pieces,  and  making 
a  diabolical  noise;  like  demons  too  they 
looked,  with  little  clothing  and  painted 
in  the  most  grotesque  manner.  Some 
had  green  faces,  red  breasts,,  and  horned 
buffaloes'   heads  on  top  of  their  own; 


78  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

some  had  one  blue  leg  and  one  yellow 
one,  red  foreheads,  and  green  chins ; 
others  of  the  favorite  rhubarb  color 
were  touched  up  ''  tastily''  with  red  and 
yellow  ochre.  No  horrible  combination 
of  colors  could  be  thought  of  that  was 
not  there,  and  with  their  splendid  war- 
bonnets,  furs,  and  embroideries  the  ef- 
fect was  like  a  circular  bed  of  gaudy 
flowers.  Behind  us  the  big  drum  was 
making  a  fiendish  din,  and  the  singing, 
shrieking,  and  yelling  went  on  without 
end,  while  one  creature  with  head  cov- 
ered— whether  man  or  woman  we  could 
not  tell — ^was  howling  a  requiem  for  the 
dead. 

They  danced,  not  in  circles,  but  in 
rows  up  and  down,  with  the  usual  step 
and  chant.  Sometimes  they  would  call 
out   "Hi!  hi!  hi!"   as  the   savages  of 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  79 

New  York  do.  When  one  party  was 
tired  they  would  stand  aside  and  others 
would  come  in,  or  a  circle  of  mounted 
Indians  would  ride  round  the  pole. 
Some  of  these  were  very  brilliant  chiefs, 
and  among  them  Sitting  Bull — who 
came  proudly  in  on  a  beautiful  Ameri- 
can blood-horse  (a  black),  with  shining 
arms  and  trappings  of  gorgeous  colors, 
and  his  war-bonnet  of  feathers  trailing 
on  the  ground — was  an  apparition  never 
to  be  forgotten.  One  young  man  on 
foot,  who  was  painted  all  over  yellow 
ochre,  with  imitation  wounds  upon  his 
breast  and  body,  was  so  handsome, 
statuesque,  and  graceful  that  it  was  im- 
possible tO'  believe  he  could  be  a  full- 
blooded  Indian.  His  profile  was  fault- 
less, but  his  full  face,  a  little  flattened, 
showed  Indian  blood.    Many  half-breeds 


80  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

live  among  the  savages  and  follow  their 
customs,  and  this  man  was  probably  one 
of  them.  A  parchment  figure  of  a  man 
about  eight  or  ten  inches  long,  a  sort  of 
'^  paper  doll,"  painted  and  with  a  little 
scalp-lock  on  its  head,  lay  near  the  pole, 
and  the  Indians  stamped  on  it  as  they 
passed  and  struck  it  viciously  with  the 
butts  of  their  muskets.  We  were  told 
that  it  was  an  emblem  of  their  enemies, 
and  that  at  first  it  was  put  at  the  top 
of  the  pole  and  shot  down  with  arrows. 
It  was,  however,  white. 

It  is  the  custom  for  these  Indians  to 
give  presents  to  one  another  at  this 
dance.  One  squaw  rushed  forward  with 
a  shawl  and  threw  it  at  the  feet  of  one 
of  the  braves,  and  another  squaw  ran 
in  and  took  it  away.  The  chiefs  be- 
stowed   sticks    quite    freely    upon    the 


IN  AK  AMBULANCE.  gl 

braves,  and  every  one  wlio  had  a  stick 
could  choose  a  pony  for  himself.  It  is 
said  that  when  a  chief  goes  into  mourn- 
ing he  gives  away  a  large  number  of 
his  horses  and  then  makes  war  to  steal 
some  more.  The  vendetta  is  a  custom 
among  the  Indians,  with  this  difference, 
that  if  they  cannot  slay  the  offender, 
they  kill  some  one  else,  red  or  white. 
The  manes  of  the  dead  must  be  ap- 
peased by  slaughter. 

After  looking  on  for  a  couple  of 
hours  in  the  stifling  heat  and  choking 
dust  at  this  strange  scene  we  left  the 
dance,  which  was  still  going  on,  having 
laid  our  gifts  at  the  foot  of  the  medi- 
cine pole.  This  first  day  was  a  sort  of 
dance  of  consecration  :  the  real  cere- 
monies were  to  come  off  next  day,  when 
the    braves    torture    themselves    to    see 


82  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

which  can  endure  the  most,  and  the  hair 
of  the  children  is  cut  and  their  ears 
slit  on  arriving  at  a  certain  age.  It  is 
not  likely  that  we  could  have  borne  to 
see  much  of  this,  but  we  wished — some 
of  us — to  have  a  glimpse  of  the  horror. 
It  was  decided,  however,  that  our  de- 
parture from  Eed  Cloud  could  be  no 
longer  delayed,  and  what  we  had  al- 
ready seen  must  suffice.  After  a  night 
of  intensely  brilliant  moonlight  and 
roaring  wind  we  set  off  for  Spotted 
Tail  agency,  still  farther  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Going  down  the  long  valley  we 
had  all  day  the  butte  in  sight,  of  which 
the  following  legend  is  told :  A  party 
of  Sioux  had  driven  the  Crows  to  take 
refuge  on  the  top  of  this  butte  and  en- 
camped round  its  base,  sure  that  they 
"  had  'em."     But,  lo !   in   the   morning 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  83 

the  Crows  were  gone,  having  let  them- 
selves down,  like  eloping  nuns,  by  ropes 
made  of  their  blankets,  over  the  sheer 
cliff,  and  slipped  away  by  well-known 
paths  across  the  mountains.  A  similar 
story  is  related  of  many  other  buttes. 
The  country  became  every  hour  more 
barren  as  we  went  on  in  a  north-easterly 
direction  till  all  was  desolation.  We 
passed  the  remains  of  the  "  Old  Agency," 
where  the  ground  was  strewed  for  miles 
with  the  bones  and  skulls  of  slaughtered 
cattle.  The  Indians  always  encamp 
near  the  agencies,  and  in  time  make 
the  place  uninhabitable;  so,  as  there  is 
plenty  of  room,  a  removal  occurs. 

Passing  a  low  hill  called  Trunk  Butte, 
we  camped  on  Chadron  Creek  about  2 
P.M.,  just  as  a  short,  sharp  hail-storm 
passed  over  us.     A  number  of  Indians 


84    *  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

came  into  camp,  who  appeared  to  be 
straggling  about  the  Plains  or  going  to 
the  Sun  Dance.  They  got  up  a  horse- 
race with  the  soldiers,  but  as  neither  side 
ran  fair  it  amounted  to  nothing.  Yet 
the  Arab-like  scene  in  the  red  sunset, 
with  the  crowd  of  Indians  and  soldiers, 
was  a  good  one.  These  Indians  were 
wild-looking  fellows,  quite  ready  to  steal 
or  beg  the  remains  of  our  dinner.  The 
night  deepened,  moon  and  stars  came 
out,  the  night-hawks  flew  about  on 
noiseless  wings,  uttering  strange  cries: 
all  else  was  silent.  The  Indians  stole 
away  to  their  camps,  hidden  among  the 
folds  of  the  hills,  and  we  kindled  the 
great  fire  and  sat  in  its  glow,  talking 
and  telling  stories.  The  war,  too  soon 
forgotten,  lived  again  for  us  that  night. 
Captain  S told  us  wild  tales  of  his 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  §5 

escapes  from  rebel  prisons  and  of  the 
horrors  of  Libby  and  Andersonville. 
We  have  all  heard  these  tales,  but  how 
much  more  real  was  the  simple  matter- 
of-fact  story  of  one  who  had  lived 
through  it  all!  He  escaped,  in  various 
ways  and  under  various  disguises,  seven 
times,  each  time  being  retaken,  and 
once,  worst  of  all,  when  actually  within 
our  lines.  On  the  last  trial,  fortunately, 
Sherman  was  near,  and  he  was  saved, 
although  a  Southern  ojQBcer  sat  one  day 
on  the  bed  under  which  he  was  con- 
cealed and  ate  the  dinner,  prepared  by 
a  friendly  hand,  for  which  he  was  fam- 
ishing. How  is  it  possible  that  the 
brave  men  who  passed  through  such 
things  can  seem  so  much  like  other 
people  as  they  do?  To  them  it  was 
simply  duty,  simply  living:   they  went 


g6  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

on  from  hour  to  hour  doing  what  came 
to  hand.  Nothing  ever  seems  very 
strange  while  it  is  happening,  and  to 
one  who  is  always  ready  for  action, 
action  seems  an  every-day  affair.  But 
while  all  the  bitterness  and  wrath  of 
that  time  should  pass  away,  while  all 
its  anger  should  be  forgotten,  let  us  not 
forget  its  lessons,  nor  yet  those  whose 
heroism  won  us  the  day, — the  living 
and  the  dead. 

Kising  next  morning  at  break  of  day 
we  heard  the  doves  answering  one 
another  from  the  thicket, — the  loveliest, 
loneliest  of  tones,  like  the  clear,  soft 
sound  of  a  delicate  bell.  It  reminded 
us  of  the  German  fable  that  the  cam- 
panulas ring  chimes  for  the  fairies, 
though  only  a  Sunday  child  may  hear 
them.     Our  little  camp  was  soon  alive 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  87 

and  ready  for  an  early  start.  The  plan 
was  to  leave  our  whole  outfit  upon  Cha- 
dron  Creek  under  guard,  and  to  go  on 
in  light-marching  order  to  Spotted  Tail, 
returning  at  night  to  camp.  With  our 
three  ambulances  and  an  escort  of  twelve 
horse  we  went  rapidly  down  the  White 
River  under  a  scorching  sun  and  over 
a  more  dreary  country  than  ever.  Trees 
totally  disappeared,  the  bluffs  flattened 
out  into  hillocks ;  dust  to  dust,  ashes  to 
ashes  :  alkali  reigned  over  all.  The 
river  ran  a  muddy  white,  the  sky  was 
white,  the  earth  was  white,  and  we  soon 
became  white  too.  Sometimes,  however, 
these.  Bad  Lands  assumed  a  singular 
and  interesting  appearance,  water-worn 
into  gulches  and  cafions  below  the  sur- 
face of  the  plains,  and  simulating  the 
appearance  of    great    snow-banks    and 


88  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

fluted  glaciers,  whose  white  and  gray 
forms  had  a  certain  beauty  of  their 
own.  Wherever  there  is  light  and 
shadow  there  are  the  elements  of  beauty, 
the  germs,  at  least,  of  color,  and  over 
this  unreal  snow  pale  tints  of  rose  and 
delicate  green  hovered  and  imitated 
faintly  the  hues  of  the  Mer  de  Glace. 

A  rapid  drive  of  about  two  hours 
brought  us  to  Spotted  Tail  agency, 
passing  by  the  Indian  camp  about  five 
miles  distant,  where  a  thin  belt  of  tim- 
ber marked  the  course  of  Bordeaux 
Creek.  The  camp  and  agency  of 
Spotted  Tail  stand  in  as  dreary  a  plain, 
perhaps,  as  can  be  found  on  the  globe, 
seeming  more  like  the  dismal  planets 
we  read  of  than  our  pleasant  gay  green 
earth.  Not  a  shrub  broke  the  alkaline 
monotony,  and  we  pitied  the  poor  fel- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  39 

lows  who  had  to  live  there  separated 
from  their  families  and  all  that  is 
bright  and  pleasant.  Here  were  gen- 
tlemen and  scholars  eating,  drinking, 
breathing  alkali  and  grasshoppers,  with- 
out opera,  lectures,  Theodore  Thomas, 
or  anything  that  makes  life  tolerable. 
We  sat  under  bowers  of  dead  pine 
boughs  with  all  the  music  dried  out  of 
them,  and  endured  the  suffocating  heat 
as  well  as  we  could.  All  that  was  pos- 
sible was  done  for  us  :  an  elegant 
luncheon  was  spread,  with  everything 
nice  that  could  come  out  of  cans,  and 
the  poor  fellows  showed  us  fossils. 
Alas !  they  had  nothing  alive,  not  a 
blade  of  grass.  Everything  was  dead, 
and  had  been  dead  a  long  time, — sev- 
eral ages,  to  say  the  least.  All  people 
on   the   Plains   keep   fossils,   and   show 

8* 


90  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

you  with  pride  the  thigh-bone  of  a 
mammoth,  a  slice  of  cold  fish,  or  a  heap 
of  ammonites.  Something  of  to-day 
would  have  been  better,  but  in  that 
country  there  is  no  to-day,  nothing 
"recent."  One  officer  had  quite  a  col- 
lection of  dead  insects  and  birds,  but 
how  insects  and  birds  had  ever  lived 
there  I  could  not  see.  But  the  grass- 
hoppers! They  must  not  be  forgotten, 
for  they  were  "  like  grasshoppers  for 
multitude,"  and  at  every  step  we  raised 
thousands.  Every  night  there  were 
dozens  of  the  most  "bumptious"  kind 
in  our  tents,  and  we  shouted  with  laugh- 
ter at  their  antics. 

At  three  we  went  back  to  camp 
again,  bidding  good-by  with  regret  to 
our  agreeable  hosts,  and  leaving  them 
to  their  loneliness,  their  heat,  and  their 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  Ql 

alkali.  We  were  the  first  ladies  that 
had  ever  paid  them  a  visit,  and  it  may 
be  long  before  they  see  any  more.  For- 
tunately, the  sun  was  now  obscured : 
great  black  clouds  were  marching  across 
the  country,  and  by  and  by  the  storm 
struck  us  with  rolling  columns  of  dust 
and  a  few  drops  of  rain.  Then  it  swept 
grandly  on,  and  we  arrived  just  after 
nightfall  at  our  camp  at  Chadron.  It 
is  strange  how  soon  one  becomes  at  home 
in  a  camp !  We  felt  as  if  we  had  lived 
there  a  week  and  were  coming  back  to 
a  familiar  place. 

The  news  had  reached  us  that  the 
Indians  were  in  a  bad  humor,  having 
heard  some  exaggerated  accounts  of 
General  Custer's  doings  in  the  Black 
Hills,  and  had  refused  to  allow  any 
whites  to  see  the  last  ceremonies  of  the 


92  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

Sun  Dance.  An  Indian  who  lived  near 
by,  and  had  been  hanging  about  the 
camp  for  what  he  could  get,  came  that 
night  and  talked  a  great  deal  about  the 

danger  we   were    in.     Sergeant   J , 

who  had  been  long  on  the  Plains  and 
knew  a  little  of  the  Indian  tongue, 
undertook  to  pump  him  and  find  out  if 
he  really  knew  anything.  As  we  sus- 
pected, he  had  only  heard  some  idle 
rumors.  The  group  was  a  good  one. 
The  Indian,  a  tall,  fine-looking  speci- 
men of  his  race,  in  blue  blanket  and 
red  paint,  squatted  upon  his  moccasined 
heels  and  looked  shrewd  and  keen,  while 
our  sergeant,  also  tall,  slender,  and  hand- 
some, was  squatted  in  the  same  man- 
ner opposite,  and  searched  the  impassive 
face  of  the  savage  with  his  clear  blue 
eyes.     Two    more    alert-looking    speci- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  93 

mens  of  the  races  could  hardly  have 
been  found,  but  we  thought  that  in  a 
tussle  the  hardy,  supple  Indian  would 
scarcely  be  a  match  for  the  sinewy 
young  veteran  of  the  Plains.  Around 
them  stood  the  officers,  booted  and 
spurred,  fair-haired,  graceful  girls, 
matrons  and  children,  blonde  and  bru- 
nette, a  squaw  or  two  with  flat  painted 
faces,  and  the  tents  and  camp-equipage 
in  the  background.  The  scene  was 
Homeric,  for  ^^  Greek  met  Greek,"  and 
a  war  of  words  ensued.  The  Indian 
"  talked  big.''  He  said  ''  his  people 
were  marching  down  from  the  Black 
Hills  in  great  wrath  :  they  were  but 
two  sleeps  behind  us.  General  Custer 
had  massacred  a  whole  village ;  his  men 
had  murdered  a  chief  named  Stabber. 
We  had  better  depart  or  we  should  all 


94  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

be  killed.  Our  squaws  and  children, 
no  kill:  soldiers  no  like."  The  officers 
laughed  at  his  talk  :  they  had  often 
heard  the  like  before;  but  as  we  were 
going  back  to  Red  Cloud  next  morning 
it  did  not  concern  us  much.  The  noble 
savage  ended,  as  usual,  by  begging. 
He  had  a  little  round  button  at  the 
top  of  his  head,  which  looked  as  if  a 
picture-nail  had  been  driven  straight 
into  his  skull.  How  it  was  fastened  on 
was  one  of  the  "  mysteries  of  life.'' 

Next  morning  we  departed  for  Red 
Cloud,  arriving  there  on  the  evening 
of  the  31st.  A  gay  crowd  of  Indians 
were  at  the  agency,  for  it  was  "issue 
day,"  when  rations  are  given  out.  The 
squaws  shouldered  the  heavy  burdens, 
and  all  went  off  along  the  trails  to- 
wards   their    camps.      This    is    a   very 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  95 

populous  neighborhood,  yet  it  would 
hardly  be  suspected.  Their  tents  are 
concealed  among  the  hills,  and  in  look- 
ing over  the  country  you  see  nothing 
of  them.  Yet  little  parties  are  con- 
stantly met  going  about,  for  they  spend 
much  time  in  visiting,  gossiping,  feast- 
ing, drumming,  and  dancing.  An  In- 
dian trail  is  usually  a  double  track, 
made  by  the  tent-poles,  which,  fastened 
on  each  side  of  the  ponies,  wear  an  un- 
even, wriggling  path. 

We  were  sorry  to  leave  Red  Cloud, 
where  we  had  found  true  friendliness, 
hospitality,  and  all  the  amenities  of  life, 
and  the  wild  nature  among  these  lonely 
hills,  which  some  would  think  so  dreary, 
had  for  us  a  charm  that  could  not  pass 
away.  Again  we  wound  up  the  White 
River  to  its  sources,  among  the  bowers 


96  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

of  branches  and  thickets  of  clematis  and 
wild  cucumber,  rejoicing  once  more  in 
the  trees  as  we  watched  the  soldiers 
dashing  after  deer  or  halting  at  the 
springs.  It  was  very  fascinating,  though 
not  considered  quite  safe,  to  walk  ahead 
of  the  party  during  a  halt,  until,  all 
being  out  of  sight  behind  the  endless 
waves  of  land,  we  felt  all  alone  in  the 
wide  world.  On  one  of  these  walks 
we  'lifted  up  our  eyes  and  beheld  a 
great  company,"  the  weekly  mail-  and 
supply-train,  thirty  wagons  with  an 
escort  of  thirty  horse, — a  fine  sight 
as  they  wound  up  and  down  the 
undulating  space.  And  then  and 
there  the  mail  was  robbed,  and  we 
read  letters  from  dear  friends,  warm 
words  of  love  at  the  world's  end,  and 
seemed   to    hear   the   roar  of   Atlantic 


m  AN  AMBULANCE,  97 

waves   as   we   stood    on   that   ocean   of 
the  Plains. 

Thus  on,  till  in  the  afternoon  our 
tents  were  "pight"  on  Running  Water 
again  and  we  sat  by  the  camp-fire  in 
peace.  Our  excellent  commissariat  was 
always  a  source  of  wonder  to  us.  If 
it  ever  occurred  to  us  that  Jeff,  the 
black  cook,  might  have  had  a  little 
more  imagination,  and  might  have  im- 
provised .  more  variety  from  the  excel- 
lent materials  he  had,  why,  he  was 
born  without  genius,  and  that  was  not 
the  fault  of  our  admirable  commanding 
officer.  Jeff  was  a  darky  who  knew 
a  hundred  games  of  cards  and  only 
one  soup.  Gambling  was  his  business, 
sleep  his  recreation,  cooking  his  last 
resort  when  there  were  no  more  silver 
watches    to    be    won.      But    his    grins 


98  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

and  his  orange  neckerchief  were  a  joy- 
forever. 

We  found  the  cache  of  forage  we 
left  on  the  Niobrara  had  been  opened 
and  ^Te-emptied.  So  much  the  more 
reason  for  hastening  back  to  Laramie. 
The  same  route,  the  same  country,  cool 
breezes,  glorious  mornings,  sunsets,  grass- 
hoppers, gophers,  prairie-dogs,  camp-life 
again,  till,  crossing  the  Platte,  we  saw 
the  ugly,  friendly  old  buildings  of  the 
post.  We  were  entertained  this  time 
at  the  cavalry  camp,  where  the  oJBBcers 
gave  up  their  comfortable  tents  for  our 
use.  The  money-bag,  once  plump  with 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  green- 
backs, was  now  shrunken,  wrinkled,  and 
melancholy.  Not  so  we.  Business  first 
and  pleasure  afterwards.  The  business 
trip  was   over :    now  we  were  to  have 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  99 

the  bonne  louche  of  the  whole  aflFair,  a 
picnic  of  a  week  among  the  untrodden 
wilds  of  Laramie  Peak. 

On  the  5th  of  August  we  were  off 
in  high  spirits  for  the  woods.  Some 
gay  young  officers  commanded  the 
escort,  and  the  whole  party  (except 
those  under  ten)  left  at  least  ten  years 

behind  them.     Colonel  S (our  kind 

host)  and  his  family,  with  the  same 
ladies  as  before,  composed  the  party, 
with  the  addition  of  an  English  artist. 
Our  first  day's  journey  was  like  many 
others,  with  this  difference,  that  we  were 
always  approaching  the  peak,  which 
grew  every  moment  more  beautiful  and 
distinct.  It  reminded  us  in  form  and 
color  of  the  Alban  Mount,  and  the 
country  was  not  unlike  the  Roman 
Campagna.      Our    first    camp    was    on 


100  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

Cottonwood  Creek,  but  higher  up  than 
where  we  had  struck  it  before  in  going 
to  Fort  Fetterman.  The  stream  rises 
in  the  Laramie  range,  and  our  route 
lay  up  its  valley.  At  sunset  the  moun- 
tain shone  for  us  with  wonderful  colors, 
— campanula,  periwinkle,  and  forget- 
me-not, — deepening  with  twilight  to 
purple  and  brown.  With  the  morning 
light  we  were  off  again,  up  the  charm- 
ing wild  valley  following  the  deer-tracks 
among  the  trees.  The  peak  was  dark 
and  angry  with  cloud-shadows,  little 
sprinkling  showers  passed  over  us  with 
rainbows,  then  deep  blue  sky  prevailed. 
We  thought  we  had  seen  blue  sky  be- 
fore, but  there  is  none  like  this  that 
crowns  the  canons  of  the  Rockies. 
Sometimes  even  our  exquisite  turquoise 
is    opaque,   but    here  the   dark   depths 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  \Q\ 

were  boundless.  The  valley  became  a 
gorge;  we  crossed  the  wild  little  stream 
constantly,  following  the  dim  trail;  the 
rocks  grew  higher  and  bolder  every 
moment,  bristling  with  chimneys  and 
needles.  Away  into  the  heart  of  the 
Rockies  we  go,  and  well  may  they  be 
called  so,  for  they  are  the  rockiest  kind 
of  rocks.  The  road  becomes  bad,  be- 
comes none ;  we  tumble,  we  stick,  we 
pull,  but  we  do  not  break  down.  The 
four  black  mules  are  stanch,  now  that 
they  are  put  upon  their  mettle.  Lovely 
and  bowery  are  the  reaches  of  the 
brook  ;  above,  the  pitch-pines  clothe 
the  hill-sides  where  they  can  find 
standing-room,  but  most  is  crag  and 
precipice  cutting  the  sky.  Now  in  the 
damp  places  we  find  willow,  Cottonwood, 
kinnikinnic ;    now  the    cafion    opens    a 

9* 


102  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

little  and  leaves  space  for  green  grass 
and  lovely  flowers,  blazing  golden  com- 
posites, blue  gentians,  and  the  exquisite 
lungwort.  A  glimpse  of  the  peak  far 
above  tells  us  how  near  we  are  to  our 
goal.  At  two  o'clock  we  emerge  from 
a  thick  pine  grove  scattered  with  boul- 
ders ;  the  valley  widens,  and  we  find 
the  deserted  saw-mill  and  cabins  near 
which  Lieutenant  Robinson  and  a  ser- 
geant were  murdered  by  the  Indians 
only  last  February.  Once  this  little 
valley  under  the  peak  was  a  busy  scene ; 
now  it  is  as  silent  as  the  grave.  It 
seems  as  if  we  could  touch  the  moun- 
tain, so  clear  is  the  atmosphere ;  every 
rift  and  seam  and  jag  of  its  rough 
outline  is  as  sharply  visible  as  the  teeth 
of  a  broken  saw.  Over  comes  a  black 
cloud    that    interrupts    the    eating    of 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  JQS 

bread  and  jam  and  the  making  of 
claret-cup  that  usually  accompany  a 
halt.  Tents  are  pitched  in  a  hurry 
and  we  hasten  to  shelter.  The  shower 
over,  we  enjoy  this  Swiss  scene,  with 
the  mill  and  huts  for  chalets.  There 
is  everything  in  this  magic  valley :  we 
have  but  to  wish,  and  here  is  an  ice- 
house filled  last  winter  under  orders  of 
Lieutenant  Robinson.  How  strange 
that  we  should  have  come  thousands 
of  miles  to  drink  his  punch,  poor  fel- 
low !  Out  came  the  sun,  the  peak 
streamed  and  glistened  with  rain,  the 
grass  shone,  and  the  clouds  rolled  rap- 
idly away. 

In  the  night  we  had  our  first  expe- 
rience of  a  grand  mountain-storm. 
Actually  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
electric  tempest,  we  were  bathed  with- 


104  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

out  ceasing  in  floods  of  lightning,  crim- 
son, orange,  and  white  ;  the  thunder 
never  ceased  roaring  and  crashing;  the 
rain  came  down  in  cataracts;  mountain 
and  forest  were  illumined  with  the  in- 
tense flashes  to  their  innermost  nooks. 
But  we  went  to  sleep  in  the  middle  of 
it,  and  awoke  next  morning  to  see  a 
true  Alpen-glow  burning  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  the  peak.  The  light  fell  lower 
and  lower,  till  the  whole  mountain 
shone  with  the  rose  light,  and  at  last 
the  sun  appeared  over  the  opposite  hill, 
and  it  was  full  day. 

We  breakfasted  on  grouse,  which  were 
plenty,  and  went  on  at  6  a.m.  of  a  per- 
fect morning,  hearing  shots  often  from 
our  hunting-parties,  who  were  out  on 
all  sides.  After  a  short  march  of  a 
few    hours    we    turned    suddenly    into 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE.  105 

another  little  valley,  where  bold  cliffs 
shadowed  another  little  stream,  the 
north  fork  of  the  Laramie.  A  bear 
was    brought  in,   killed  by   Lieutenant 

F ,  and  we  had  some  of  the  meat 

for  dinner,  with  the  delicate  Rocky 
Mountain  pheasant  or  blue  grouse. 
We  rambled  about,  bathed  in  the  clear 
stream,  where  we  found  numbers  of 
the  curious  little  gravel  houses  of  the 
caddis- worm,  and  napped  away  part  of 
the  long  afternoon.  Some  one  discov- 
ered a  great  excrescence  in  a  pine- 
tree,  a  singular  freak  of  nature,  oddly 
woven  of  matted  twigs  and  as  large  as 
a  hogshead.  The  children  climbed  the 
cliffs  and  shouted  from  above.  Then 
the  great  roaring  camp-fire  was  kindled 
as  usual,  and  songs  and  stories  ushered 
in  the  thick  bright  stars. 


106  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

In  the  morning  we  left  the  North 
Laramie  fork  and  entered  another 
nameless  cafion,  with  its  own  cliffs  and 
pines,  where  we  killed  our  first  rattle- 
snake. We  thought  we  had  seen  grass- 
hoppers, but  in  these  valleys  were  the 
grasshoppers, — millions  to  every  square 
inch,  flying  above  the  trees  in  clouds, 
dimming  the  light  of  the  sun.  Of 
course  there  are  no  roads  in  these 
gorges,  where  none  but  hunters  and 
scouts  have  ever  been,  and  we  pitch 
about  like  a  ship  in  a  storm,  stopping 
sometimes  to  have  big  rocks  rolled  out 
of  our  way.  No  ladies  have  ever 
entered  these  canons  before.  "We 
are  the  first  that  ever  burst  into 
this  silent"  vale.  Ah  !  this  -'is  the 
wilderness,  the  real  thing !  These  passes 
are    untouched    virgin    soil,    unspoiled 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  107 

by  tourists  and  advertisements  of  hair- 
dye. 

Here  the  noble  pitch-pine  is  the  only 
tree, — not  an  ornamental  tree,  but  beau- 
tiful with  its  ragged  outlines,  its  deep- 
green  boughs,  and  its  trunk  as  red  as 
an  Indian's, — beautiful  in  the  wilderness 
where  it  belongs,  under  the  rosy  cliflFs, 
the  purple  sky,  beside  the  yellow  grass. 
Now  we  peep  into  little  side-caflons, 
wild  nooks  that  charm  us  with  their 
utter  solitude ;  now  we  must  "  light  out" 
and  walk,  the  trail  is  a  little  too  bad. 
A  turn  in  the  road  hides  the  party  ; 
we  are  truly  alone.  The  noise  of  the 
grasshoppers  is  like  a  strong  rushing 
wind.  Under  the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock  we  find  the  first  ferns  we  have 
seen  in  all  this  broad  dry  land. 

Still  upward!     We  have  flanked  the 


108  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

Laramie  range,  and  are  on  the  west 
side  of  it,  and  now  we  have  reached 
the  summit  of  the  pass,  the  great  table- 
land of  Laramie  Plains,  a  wide,  lonely 
mesa,  a  favorite  range  for  antelope,  deer, 
and  hunters.  Having  crossed  the 
Rockies,  the  next  thing  we  have  to  do 
is  to  go  southward  till  we  strike  the 
Laramie  River  and  return  eastward 
down  its  valley.  Here,  as  on  all 
heights  of  land,  there  is  a  little  pond, 
and  it  is  circled  with  blue  gentians, 
grass  of  Parnassus,  and  the  small  white 
stars  of  the  water- ranunculus.  Herds 
of  antelopes  fly  before  us,  badgers  and 
other  little  beasts  run  about,  and  shots 
echo  among  the  hills.  The  fine  range 
of  the  peak  is  behind,  and  before  us 
noble  nameless  mountains,  split  and 
battlemented.      And     now     our     route 


IJSr  AN  AMBULANCE,  109 

turns,  and  we  leave  the  plain  and  rap- 
idly descend  into  a  stony  valley.  It 
is  a  steep,  breakneck  tumble,  but  we 
get  down  safely.  Here  we  find  two  of 
our  men,  lost  the  day  before.  They 
report  having  seen  a  mountain-sheep — 
very  rare  now — within  shot  after  they 
had  spent  their  ammunition. 

Soon  we  enter  a  glen  wilder  than  any 
we  have  seen  before,  called  CoUins's 
Cut-oJ6F.  Whoever  Collins  was,  he  had 
a  great  taste  in  "cut-offs."  So  savage, 
so  narrow  was  the  gorge  that  it  had 
hardly  any  bottom,  and  began  its  steep 
slope  close  to  the  edge  of  its  tiny  stream. 
Above,  high  rocks  towered  in  broken 
cliffs  thousands  of  feet.  Pine  groves 
filled  the  glen,  lifting  high  in  the  air 
their  wind -tossed,  rugged  branches. 
Great  boulders  lay  tumbled  about,  and 

10 


110  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

dogwood,  osiers,  and  the  graceful  moun- 
tain-maple hid  the  stream.  We  found 
a  lovely  new  flower,  a  white  cup  with 
exquisite  tints  of  green  at  the  bottom. 
It  is  called  wild  tulip  here.  At  sun- 
set we  climbed  one  of  the  great  hills 
that  shut  us  in  and  beheld  a  crimson 
sky,  a  tumbled  confusion  of  mountain- 
peaks  interlocked  in  a  grand  maze,  and 
beyond  the  dear  old  Plains  for  fifty 
miles  bathed  in  a  flood  of*  rosy  light. 
The  vision  faded,  and  while  we  stumbled 
down  it  became  nearly  dark,  and  the 
camp-fires  were  shining  below  among 
the  pines.  So  mysterious  and  strange 
looked  the  groups  around  them  that 
they  might  have  been  taken  for  ban- 
ditti among  the  Apennines  or  gueril- 
leros  in  the  Pyrenees  instead  of  a  peace- 
ful Yankee  picnic.     We  sat  very  late 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  \\\ 

that  night  by  the  camp-fire,  almost  till 
ten  o'clock,  enjoying  songs,  recitals, 
Hardshell  Baptist  sermons,  and  all  sorts 
of  nonsense.  The  night  was  soft  and 
mild,  great  stars  peeped  through  the 
pines,  owls  hooted  and  wolves  howled 
in  the  dark  woods  close  by. 

On  Sunday  morning,  August  9,  we 
were  allowed  a  nap  after  the  Alpen- 
glow,  an  unusual  luxury,  and  we  went 
to  sleep  with  the  happy  thought  that 
we  were  to  stay  all  day  in  this  lovely 
place.  Some  one  had  been  here  before, 
for  there  was  a  rude  hut,  said  to  have 
been  a  haunt  of  horse-thieves, — a  mere 
shelter,  but  built  by  the  hand  of  man. 
Breakfast  is  over;  our  hammocks  are 
slung  among  the  fragrant  pines ;  all  are 
busy,  drawing,  chatting,  reading,  nap- 
ping, as  if  we  had  lived  here  always. 


112  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

The  children  skip  about  among  the 
rocks,  the  little  camp  is  full  of  life  and 
color.  There  is  just  room  for  us  here, 
and  no  more.  The  soldiers'  camp  is 
pitched  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream : 
ours  is  on  a  side-hill,  and  we  sleep 
slopingly.  A  good  place  this  would  be 
for  that  species  of  wild-cat  said  to  exist 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  which  has  the 
legs  on  one  side  shorter  than  those  on 
the  other,  being  fitted  by  natural  selec- 
tion for  running  on  hill-sides.  No 
specimen  of  this  interesting  beast  could 
be  obtained :  it  has  become  very  scarce. 
Three  parties  of  soldiers  have  gone  out 
hunting :  we  ought  to  have  plenty  of 
game  for  our  Sunday  dinner.  Now  we 
hear  shouting  above:  "Got  a  big  deer! 
Come  up,  two  or  three,  and  help." 
Soon   they  come,   half   tumbling   down 


m  AN  AMB  ULANCE,  1  ]  3 

the  cliff,  with  a  black-tailed  buck,  con- 
sidered the  best  venison,  the  next  best 
game  to  mountain-sheep.  The  second 
party  bring  in  antelope  ;  the  third, 
nothing,  which  insures  them  much 
chaffing.  Our  Sunday's  dinner  was  in- 
deed excellent:  courses  of  bear,  deer, 
and  antelope  followed  each  other,  corks 
popped,  and  jokes  and  stories  sparkled. 
As  night  comes  on  and  the  fires  are 
lighted  the  effect  is  magical  of  splen- 
dor upon  darkness :  the  red  trunks  and 
dead  and  green  branches  stand  out  bril- 
liantly, and  everything  tells.  Across 
the  brook,  in  the  soldiers'  bivouac,  white 
tents  are  gleaming,  horses  and  mules 
are  picketed,  groups  with  long  shadows 
are  sitting  in  the  firelight,  game  and 
skins  are  hanging  in  the  trees,  shining 

arms  are  piled,  and  camp-kettles  hang 

10* 


114  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

gypsy-like  upon  three  sticks.  Our  fire 
is  a  grand  one,  and  lights  up  the  forest 
for  a  great  distance.  There  is  no  lack 
of  fuel  in  our  "perpendicular  wood- 
pile;" the  children  bring  apronsful  of 
fragrant  cones ;  we  heap  on  great 
branches,  watching  carefully  that  the 
flames  do  not  spread  and  burn  the 
woods.  Sometimes  on  a  windy  night 
the  fire  suddenly  leaps  out,  and  tents, 
wagons,  baggage,  and  all  are  consumed, 
and  lives  are  in  danger.  Ladies  have 
been  thus  left  in  the  wilderness  with 
nothing  to  wear,  and  have  been  obliged 
to  borrow  the  soldiers'  trousers  or  make 
petticoats  of  corn-sacks.  Most  people 
have  something  of  the  gypsy  latent 
within  them,  but  few  have  such  a 
chance  as  this  to  let  it  out.  Nor  do 
many  civilians   see   military  life   in   its 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  115 

out-door  aspect  of  the  camp  and  the 
bivouac,  which  is  its  really  fresh  and 
charming  side.  Surely,  if  most  of  our 
army  resemble  those  with  whom  we  had 
to  do,  a  more  manly,  brave,  and  cour- 
teous set  of  men  do  not  exist.  We 
were  proud  of  them  as  countrymen. 
They  are  far  from  being  the  lazy 
hangers-on  at  barracks  that  Eastern 
people  are  apt  to  imagine.  Life  to 
them  is  active,  full  of  adventure,  some- 
times of  danger ;  they  learn  to  endure 
cold,  fatigue,  hardship ;  they  become 
shrewd,  alert,  "shifty."  They  must 
bear  separation  from  their  families  and 
friends,  from  the  world  of  science,  lit- 
erature, or  amusement.  Their  bodies 
may  lie  frozen  or  massacred  in  the  wil- 
derness. Yet,  in  spite  of  not  a  little 
grumbling,  they  seem  to  like  their  life ; 


llg  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

and  no  wonder,  for  it  is  real,  and  with 
all    its   drawbacks   it    is   fascinating    to 

many.     Colonel  S loves  these  desert 

plains,  over  which  he  has  to  journey 
every  two  months  in  scorching  heat  or 
bitter  cold,  and  would  hardly  change 
their  freedom  for  the  refinements  and 
conventionahties  of  an  Eastern  city.  As 
for  the  Indian  question,  we  refrain  from 
the  discussion,  as  everybody  at  the  East 
has  an  opinion  ready  formed  upon  the 
subject. 

We  were  drawn  away  from  our  own 
camp-fire  by  the  sound  of  the  soldiers' 
singing,  and  we  sat  listening  long  in 
silence.  There  were  some  fine  voices 
among  them,  and  as  they  sang  that  most 
pathetic  of  war-songs,  the  *'  Old  Camp- 
ground," the  effect  was  wonderful  in  that 
solitary  place.     The  singers  were  hidden 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  Hy 

from  view,  but  their  fire  flickered  upon 
their  tents  and  lighted  up  the  black, 
solemn  wood, — a  fitting  scene  for  the 
music.  How  we  felt  as  that  tender  old 
song  rolled  out  of  the  darkness!  How 
we  thought  of  those  old  camp-grounds, 
where  now  the  violets  grow  and  the 
kind  hand  of  Nature  has  effaced  the 
marks  of  blood, — the  old  camp-grounds 
of  the  war !  Ah,  let  us  not  forget  those 
fields  where  we  had  so  much  at  stake, 
nor  those  who  died  to  keep  them  free. 
Other  fine  old  war-songs  followed,  then 
sentimental  ballads,  a  charming  German 
love-song,  new  to  us :  some  one  recited 
"  Hans  Breitmann's  Ride"  with  great  ef- 
fect in  good  dialect,  and  some  comic  negro 
songs  followed.  But  we  had  the  "  Old 
Camp-ground"  repeated  before  we  went 
away,  and  none  of  us  will  ever  forget  it. 


118  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

Next  morning  the  principal  singer 
and  speaker  was  pointed  out  to  us, — a 
dark,  handsome  fellow,  who  looked  in 
his  sombrero  like  Fra  Diavolo.  "Mighty 
clever,  but  always  in  the  guard-house :" 
this  was  the  character  they  gave  him. 
Plenty  of  talent  is  hidden  away  among 
the  privates  of  our  army,  poor  fellows ! 
who  cannot  abjure  the  bottle  or  the  dice, 
and  are  "  always  in  the  guard-house" — 
some  of  them  men  of  good  family  and 
education,  but  forgotten  and  forgetting. 
We  were  told  of  one  who  made  ex- 
quisite carvings  out  of  the  white  clay; 
of  others  who  were  artists,  actors,  and 
musicians  in  these  distant  posts. 

Our  next  camp  was  only  seven  miles 
off,  for  we  lingered  in  the  mountains, 
A  small  party  of  us  walked  the  short 
distance  through  the  fine  canons,  where 


IN  AN  AMBULANCE,  HQ 

the  high  crags  fringed  with  pines 
touched  the  blue,  constantly  crossing  the 
brooks,  and  finding  old  friends  among 
the  willows,  monkshood,  painted  cup, 
and  dogsbane.  Every  moment  the  view 
changed  :  new  mountains  and  valleys 
opened  before  us.  It  was  a  lovely  walk, 
but  our  commanding  officer  did  not 
think  it  quite  safe,  and  we  refrained 
from  these  rambles  afterwards. 

Again  in  camp,  August  11,  in  a  sweet 
green  valley,  with  pine-covered  hills 
and  one  big  mountain  looking  at  us 
over  their  tops.  A  pretty  spring  was 
here  with  its  bottom  glittering  with 
golden  pyrites.  Ah !  if  all  that  glitters 
were  gold !  A  wild  wind  was  sounding 
in  the  pines,  the  sky  was  bluer  than 
blue,  with  great  white  clouds.  As  soon 
as   we  ^*  lit  out,"   the  time  being  still 


120  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

early  forenoon,  Jejff,  the  black  cook, 
immediately  went  to  sleep,  the  dinner 
evidently  not  weighing  heavily  upon  his 
mind.  Whereupon  a  mischievous  young 
officer  fired  a  pistol  close  to  his  ear. 
The  effect  was  comic.  He  started  up, 
pale  and  dusky  with  fear ;  the  whites 
of  his  eyes  grew  as  large  as  tea-cups, 
and  he  stood  bewildered  a  long  time 
amid  our  shouts  of  laughter.  Lulled 
by  the  pines,  I  too  fell  asleep,  and  was 
wakened  by  little  L ,  who  was  call- 
ing to  me,  "  Oh,  mamma,  do  be  fright- 
ened !"  A  mountain-gale,  almost  a  hur- 
ricane, was  blowing,  and  as  I  sat  in  my 
tent  dressing  for  dinner,  first  the  stove- 
pipe in  the  cook-tent  began  to  sway  to 
and  fro ;  then  down  came  tent,  stove- 
pipe, and  all,  and  Jeff  and  the  dinner 
were  buried  in  the  ruins.     The  colonel 


IJSr  AN  AMBULANCE.  121 

rushed  to  the  rescue  and  held  up  the 
stovepipe,  and  while  I  was  wondering  if 
he  would  continue  to  hold  up  that  pipe 
till  the  dinner  was  cooked,  lo !  the  wind 
increased  and  blew  yet  higher.  Rip ! 
tear!  went  the  tent  over  my  head,  and 
I  was  buried  under  a  heap  of  canvas, 
and  obliged  to  crawl  out  in  a  "rather 
mixed"  state,  hair  flying,  brush  and 
comb  in  hand,  and  take  refuge  in  the 
ambulance,  where  I  made  shift  to  finish 
my  toilet,  laughed  at  by  all  the  camp. 
The  ambulance  did  not  quite  blow  over, 
but  it  shook  like  a  leaf.  Looking  up 
at  the  big  mountain  that  shut  us  in, 
its  top  was  wild  with  great  windy,  snowy 
clouds,  from  which  blew  an  icy  cur- 
rent; turning  to  the  other  side,  all  the 
tents   were    going   down   like  so   many 

bubbles.     Down   went  the   dining-tent 
u 


122  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

over  table  and  cookery,  and  the  ques- 
tion  of  dinner  became  an  anxious  one. 
But,  though  the  soup  was  burnt,  the 
dinner  was  cooked  somehow,  and  we 
ladies  sat  in  the  ambulance  and  were 
fed  by  the  oflGicers,  who  went  to  and 
fro  like  mother-birds,  bearing  venison, 
vegetables,  and  dessert.  The  dinner 
was  all  the  more  jolly  for  the  mishap. 
There  was  a  joke  for  every  mouthful, 
and  how  it  happened  that  we  were  not 
choked  is  a  mystery.  All  was  merry 
that  day  in  the  old  'bus.  The  gale  sub- 
sided, the  clouds  drove  away  in  a  wild 
chase,  and  vanished  over  the  Plains, 
leaving  the  open  country  before  us  as 
we  looked  down  the  gorge.  Up  went 
the  tents  again,  and  a  cool  starlit  night 
followed,  the  wind  still  roaring  and  the 
fire  flickering. 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  123 

Next  morning  we  breakfasted  on  the 
grass,  and  then  walked  a  little  way 
down  the  valley  in  the  pure  mountain- 
air  that  ran  through  the  blood  like  wine. 
Dark-blue  jays  with  black  crests  were 
flitting  among  .  the  trees,  screaming 
harshly  :  more  familiar  robins  and 
chickadees  sang  and  pursued  the  clouds 
of  grasshoppers.  The  fantastic  cliffs 
still  stood  on  either  side  as  we  ran 
down  rapidly,  till  rocks  became  hills, 
and  a  long,  dreary,  moraine-like  em- 
bankment hemmed  us  in.  If  this  were 
not  the  bed  of  an  extinct  glacier,  there 
is  no  use  in  the  glacial  theory.  A  softer 
bed  might  well  be  found.  We  jolted 
along  till  we  cried  for  mercy,  but  it  was 
of  no  use:  on  we  must,  over  rough  or 
smooth.  As  we  looked  back  the  whole 
range   came    more   and    more  superbly 


124  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

into  view,  with  all  its  array  of  pinnacles 
and  teeth,  the  great  dome  of  Laramie 
lifting  itself  over  all  like  a  wing.  Still 
down,  over  stock  and  stone,  crossing 
little  divides  and  streams,  till  we  came 
to  camp  about  noon  on  a  pretty  spot 
near  the  forks  of  the  Laramie,  and 
were  on  the  Plains  once  more.  We 
crossed  the  clear  rapid  river,  and  en- 
camped on  the  other  side  among  long 
grass  and  cottonwood.  Backward,  the 
dear  old  peak  was  beautiful  as  ever, 
clearly  defined  and  full  of  soft  shadows 
of  the  clouds  floating  over  it.  The 
river  ran  swiftly  in  the  foreground, 
fringed  with  lovely  trees,  and  just 
where  it  ought  to  have  stood  to  com- 
plete the  picture  was  a  large  hay-wagon, 
with  white  mules  and  men  with  red 
shirts.     We  had  come  back  to  civiliza- 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  125 

tion  again.     The  clouds  grew  rosy  and 

deepened    to    flame,   dark   violet  tinted 

the  mountain,  and  we   lingered  till  the 

last  yellow  light  flashed   up   from   the 

horizon    and    our    last    camp-fire    was 

lighted.     Our    picnic    would    soon    be 

over.     We  felt  a  little  sad,  and  did  not 

sing   much  that  night.     Though  it  was 

a  capital  night  for  sleeping,  we  observed 

that  the  straw   in   our  beds  had   been 

slowly  but  surely  diminishing  for  some 

time,  and  was  now  reduced  to  the  last 

straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back.     The 

burs  in  this  camp  were  numerous  and 

varied,  and  so  were  the  grasshoppers. 

In   the   morning   we   walked,   always 

looking    back    at  the    peak.    How  we 

had  learned  to  love  that  mountain   in 

all  its  aspects  of  sun  and  storm !     How 

we  had  studied  every  fold  in  its  garment, 
11* 


126  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

every  seam  in  its  brow,  every  outline  of 
its  summit!  How  happy  we  had  been 
in  its  wild  cafions !  How  loath  we  were 
to  leave  it!  "Bless  the  Lord  for  the 
mountains !"  says  the  old  Swiss  proverb. 
Jeff  now  began  to  assume  a  hoary  ap- 
pearance, which  was  mysterious  at  first, 
but  we  soon  discovered  that  he  had 
carefully  prepared  the  grease  of  "that 
bear/'  and  used  it  to  anoint  his  locks, 
and  now  that  we  were  upon  the  road 
again  the  white  dust  clung  to  them  ob- 
stinately, giving  him  a  look  of  prema- 
ture old  age.  This  was  the  first  time 
that  bear's  grease  was  ever  known  to 
be  made  from  a  real  bear.  The  day's 
ride  was  lovely,  in  a  perfect  atmos- 
phere, following  all  the  time  the  charm- 
ing valley  of  the  Laramie,  and  crossing 
the  river  nine  times.     The  scene  as  we 


IJSr  AN  AMBULANCE,  127 

forded  the  stream  and  mounted  the  op- 
posite bank  was  always  pretty.  It  is 
indeed  the  most  attractive  and  fertile 
valley  we  have  seen,  and  containing 
many  prosperous  ranches  protected  by 
the  fort.  The  river  winds  and  loops 
about  over  a  wide  intervale,  bordered 
with  yellow  bluflfs  where  shadows  lie 
•softly,  and  in  the  great  bends  the  cattle 
find  rich  pasture.  About  noon  we  ar- 
rived at  Kauflfe's  ranch,  a  house  of 
entertainment,  where  we  found  a  dozen 
officers  and  their  wives  who  had  come 
to  meet  us,  and  soon  after  we  entered 
the  old  fort  and  felt  at  home  again.  We 
were  quartered  in  the  prettiest, — the 
only  pretty  barracks  in  the  post,  where 
the  river  fled  swiftly  by,  and  we  looked 
out  through  blossoming  morning-glories 
upon    its    clear    current.     Flowers    are 


128  EIOHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

very  precious  in  this  country :  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  have  any  ;  they  are 
nursed  like  invalids.  These  quarters 
were  called  "Saints'  Rest," — a  row  of 
buildings  on  the  very  edge  of  the  river, 
— ^the  saints  being  gay  young  bachelors. 
The  rooms  were  comfortable,  but  they 
seemed  close  and  confined  after  camping 
out  so  long,  and  we  missed  the  rose- 
bushes, pine-cones,  and  grasshoppers. 

In  the  morning  we  bade  farewell  to 
the  kind  friends  and  the  hospitable 
fort,  and  to  all  the  life  at  Laramie; 
heard  the  band  for  the  last  time,  and 
went  our  way  over  the  hot,  dry  country, 
where  the  grasshoppers  had  devoured 
all  and  drought  had  eaten  up  the  rest. 
Passing  Chug  Springs  and  the  Chug- 
water,  where  there  was  almost  no  water 
at  all,  we  arrived  at  Kelly's  ranch  once 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  129 

more.  How  tame  everything  looked 
now  compared  with  its  aspect  five  weeks 
ago,  when  it  was  our  first  taste  of  wild 
life!  We  took  another  peep  at  the 
"one  little,  two  little,  three  little  In- 
dians" of  assorted  sizes  asleep  in  a  row 
out  of  doors ;  we  said  good-by  to  the 
turtle  and  the  seal.  Everything  looked 
the  same, — the  blufis,  the  stream,  the 
desert, — ^but  we  were  not  the  same:  we 
had  gained  a  rich  and  varied  experience. 
This  was  our  last  camp :  soon  we  must 
all  part  and  go  our  several  ways.  Dusty, 
tanned,  and  shabby  we  return,  but  well 
and  happy.  There  is  not  a  headache 
in  a  thousand  miles  of  the  air  we  have 
been  breathing  for  a  month  past. 

The  next  day's  ride  seemed  dull,  for 
it  was  our  last,  and  soon  we  arrived 
once  more  at  the  good  little  homely  town 


130  EIGHT  HUNDRED  MILES 

of  Cheyenne.  What  could  have  been 
more  successful  than  our  trip?  The 
weather  was  delicious,  save  a  few  torrid 
days,  the  commissariat  faultless,  the 
kindness  unfailing,  the  good -temper 
complete.  Nothing  went  wrong.  If 
there  were  any  annoyances  they  were 
carefully  concealed  from  us.  It  is  im- 
possible to  impart  the  fine  aroma  of  our 
camp-life  to  others,  but  we  have  it  bot- 
tled up  to  keep  forever.  The  skies  of 
Laramie  will  be  always  blue,  its  pines 
ever  green  in  our  memories.  And  for- 
ever will  rest  there  the  thoughtful  kind- 
ness of  our  colonel,  the  devotion  of  our 
lieutenants  and  captains,  the  fun  of 
Camp  Robinson,  the  jolly  luncheon  of 
Spotted  Tail,  the  friendly  faces  at  Fet- 
terman,  and  the  Sunday  in  Collins's 
Cut-off.      If   I   remember    not  thee,  O 


m  AN  AMBULANCE.  131 

Laramie,  may  my  right  hand  forget  her 
cunning !  if  I  remember  not  thee,  thy 
plains,  thy  river,  and  thy  pleasant  old 
fort,  may  I  never  ride  in  an  ambulance 
again ! 


THE   END. 


